


Shades of the Southern Dragon

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), overwatch
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arrow spanking, BDSM, Bondage, Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Reader-Insert, Ribbon collar, possessive hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 56,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: Genji was teasing you and you both knew it, but when his older brother heard you both, everything changed.  Hanzo—quiet, no nonsense, I-will-end-you Hanzo—suddenly took charge of everything and left your head and your heart whirling in confusion and a mind-blowing heat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is (more or less) un-beta’d. I was entranced with the idea of a possessive Hanzo and couldn’t get enough.

Hanzo always sat alone. No matter when or where, he sat off by himself. His ever present scowl didn’t encourage company either. There were even times that Genji would take a look at his face and would go somewhere else. It seemed that everyone avoided him at times.

It was so bad that there was a standing joke that someone might say that they had a “Hanzo kind of day”—a day so bad that they were in a permanently bad mood and just wanted to be left alone. Usually—most of the time—it was a backwards entreaty for friends to insist that they drag the person to a bar or a movie or something. Anything that would cheer a person up and encourage them into venting about their day and feeling better. Only a few times did it ever mean “just leave me alone indefinitely”.

That “joke” made you a little sad. Hanzo was...better than that. There was something undefinable, something noble and regal about him. It was the same sadness that you felt looking at a gorilla in a zoo. After knowing Winston, whenever you saw a gorilla pacing in a zoo or in a cage you saw an inherent nobility, a deep beauty, that should be in its own place and free to be the master of its own fate rather than the subject of jokes and silly cartoons. Having something like idiotic joke casually tossed around made you a little upset that a damn fine member of Overwatch was used like that.

On the other hand, Genji was the more vocal, the more friendly, the more approachable of the two. Genji flirted with anyone—no matter the time or the place—and he always had a funny quip. He could be your friend, your bratty younger brother, your fuck buddy, your wise older brother and your drinking buddy all at the same time without breaking a sweat. It seemed almost strange that one of the brothers was so happy and approachable and the other so quiet. It was like the black and white in-yo—each brother was the polar opposite of the other.

As one of the very few people that Genji had ever heard the word “no” from, he made a special effort to sit next to you whenever he happened to be coming through. You both had almost a routine in your greetings—a humorous series of quips and rebuttals that was comfortable and casual now.

“Hey there, lonely.” Genji asked as he sat down at your table in the cafeteria. He kept his mask on a lot in public, but the reflective metal and his accented voice somehow were as expressive as a smile. “Are you lonely for company?”

“No,” you replied softly, which was your normal response. You had your juice and a lovely fruit salad—your stab at eating healthy. Usually that was followed by cravings for a pizza or a hamburger about an hour later. “Not lonely for company either.”

“Sure you are,” the man replied with a grin in his voice that the helmet couldn’t hide. “Because you aren’t waiting for anyone else.”

“Sure I am,” you parried in your normal response.

“Who?”

“Your brother,” you smiled. It was your normal response. Hanzo never met anyone—most especially not you—but it always got the same response from the ninja.

“Hanzo meeting you?” His shoulders shook in laughter. “In your dreams.”

“Better than you,” you laughed.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Silence.” You snickered with Genji. The ninja was silent as he could be during missions and loved nothing more than sneaking up on fellow agents to scare them with sudden noises or tickles. “Hanzo is not nearly as noisy as you.”

At the end of the normal introductions and greetings, Genji nodded comfortably. He propped one hand and looked around. He waved at a group of female agents who giggled and waved back. A slender male agent even waved back with a shy blush on his cheeks. That made you roll your eyes as you ate some more of your fruit.

“Flirting with anything that moves, huh, Genji?”

He turned back to you. “Only because you won’t flirt back.” You both laughed again at that. “Seriously, though—won’t you have pity on a poor, lonely ninja and go out for a drink?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Who are you waiting for?”

“Your brother.”

Genji laughed again. “Not this again.” He shrugged. “Don’t you get tired of saying ‘no’ when saying ‘yes’ would be more fun?”

“No.”

That made you both laugh. Genji was an overgrown kid at times—a big brother that you kind of wish you had. His flirtation with you was absolutely meaningless and both of you knew it, acknowledged it, got the t-shirts, toasted it with shots, and then went on with your lives.

Suddenly, Genji was silent—his eyes trained on the doorway. You looked at him and just knew that he wasn’t smiling any more despite the armor covering his face. Looking over your shoulder, you saw the immensely muscled archer in the doorway. Hanzo’s sharp gaze looked around the room carefully, but it seemed to linger on you before jerking to someone else. Genji was silent and suddenly very still—almost tense as he watched the other man.

Hanzo, apparently satisfied with the occupants of the room, went to pick up a cup of hot green tea and a bowl of fruit. Everyone in Overwatch had brought a bit of wherever home was with them. Tracer insisted on having scones in the cafeteria and being served high tea. Soldier: 76 insisted on having grilled food for the Fourth of July, Memorial Day, and Labor Day—and then insisted on having Thanksgiving turkeys. Reinhardt insisted on regularly having bratwursts, knockwursts and sausages with sauerkraut. Genji insisted on having occasional sushi, green tea Kit-Kats and Pocky cookies at the base exchange.

Hanzo insisted on having green tea readily available at all times.

Walking with his cup and the paper bowl of fruit, Hanzo sat at his normal corner table with his back to the walls. His eyes never stopped scanning the room. He did not greet people, was not looking for anyone as far as you could tell, but sat where he could see the whole room and have his back to a comfortable corner. He nibbled the fruit and sipped his green tea. You glanced away as his eyes drug back to your own and pretended that you were looking out the window instead.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching you. It was positively unnerving. At first, it wasn’t very noticeable—just occasionally out of the corner of your eye you’d notice his coffee dark eyes on you. You would glance around and then his gaze would be elsewhere. You continually told yourself that it was nothing, despite the prickly feeling that he was paying way too much attention to you.

Genji looked at you curiously. “He’s always watching you, you know.”

You looked up with a flush on your cheeks, a bite of fruit on your fork halfway to your mouth. “What?!”

“Hanzo,” Genji whispered as he hunched over conspiratorially towards you. “He’s always watching you.” The shiny helmet dipped, your reflection bobbing in the contoured metal. “I guess I catch him more since he can’t see where my eyes are going.”

You swallowed and let the fork fall to your plate as a small tickle of pleased excitement curled in you. “I...I guess maybe he’s just looking this way.”

“Oh, no. He’s watching you. He’s always watching you.” The ninja tilted his head. “Why is that, do you suppose?” His chin propped on his palm. “And why are you turning red now?”

“Totally am not.”

“Are, too.” Genji shrugged a little. “So when are you going to go out with me?”

“No.”

“Why? Who are you waiting for?”

“Your brother.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Silence.” Your face was carefully blank. “He’s way quieter than you.”

Genji paused for a moment. “So what’s going on between you?” You had your mouth open for a reply and then he added puckishly. “When do I get some of your time?”

“No...nothing,” you choked out. The cybernetic ninja was masterful at firing questions at a person until they would agree with him just to shut him up. “Nothing is going on.”

“Yeah...right,” Genji replied with sarcasm dripping off of his voice. “Why don’t we ask him?”

Your voice broke into to a shrill tone. “Absolutely not! I absolutely don’t want to make Hanzo upset.”

Hanzo’s deep voice broke the silence behind you. “Is my younger brother causing you problems?”

You squeaked and felt your cheeks turn even more red. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him looming behind you, a dark scowl on his face and staring down at you. His still steaming cup of tea were still on his table as he had crept up behind you. You wondered how much he had heard of the teasing between the two of you. “N-n-no.... We’re fine.”

The archer’s stern gaze flicked from you to his brother. “You have other things to do.”

“Ahh...no, really, I do not.” Genji’s voice was still light and teasing, but he had shifted from his loose-limbed casual posture to sit up straight. “I really have absolutely nothing I’d rather be doing than—.”

“Silence,” Hanzo commanded. And it was unmistakably a command. “We do not want to hear your prattling.” He waved his hand sharply. “I believe that you have business elsewhere.”

“What’s bugging you, anija?” Genji kept his wheedling tone. “We are just here talking—.”

“So I heard,” Hanzo hissed. “And now you are done and will leave.”

You expected the ninja to make some kind of smart-ass remark, but instead, he simply shrugged and left. The archer took his place, facing you seriously. He did not crack even a smile as he looked at you. “I want you to answer me honestly,” he began in his usual serious tone. “What is Genji to you?”

You looked up at him almost anxiously. “Nothing. A friend. A fellow agent.”

He looked at you more seriously and nodded. “If he is more than that, tell me now.”

“Nothing more.” You tried—and failed—to offer him a smile. His face was stern and his eyes riveted to your face as he judged your reply. “He’s a flirtatious pain in the ass.”

The archer stared into your eyes for a long moment. Then he nodded solemnly. “I will take care of it then.”

You stared at him in confusion as he pushed himself up and stalked out.


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later you were notified of your transfer to Hanzo’s unit. A part of you was shocked, and a part of you was confused and a part of you was absolutely terrified. What on earth had brought this about?

Hanzo only gave the most dry of introductions to the rest of the unit: a pair of techs, a medic, a “procurement officer” who apparently could get his hands on literally anything, and a couple of fighters of various stripes. The mission you had been scheduled to go on with Mei and Reinhardt went without you and Hanzo’s mission was not scheduled for another couple of weeks.

Instead, you trained with his unit. He trained with them daily, unending rounds of sparring and weight lifting and then time on the range with various weapons. His “procurement officer”—a pale and skinny man with an accent that waffled between an Irish brogue and an Aussie twang and a shock of wild hair that was dyed crimson—kept providing new weapons and unending boxes of rounds. Hanzo insisted that everyone in his unit—even the techs and medic—know how to load, fire and clean all of them.

The archer kept you all hopping with daily time on the range, daily sparring sessions and daily workouts. You went through a few days struggling to try to fit into the group and get into the routine. Every day you were sore and felt vaguely disappointed that you were never going to fit in.

The third day, he glanced up at you after everyone else was leaving. “Stay—please.”

You looked up at him a bit bashfully as the rest of the team vanished. “Uhh...sure?” You nodded slightly. “What do you need?”

He stood and offered you a clean towel. “If you could please...ahh...help me clean up for the next team. I would appreciate it.”

You took the towel and nodded. “Okay.”

He gave you a half smile. “It is a bit of a chore.” He shrugged. “I rarely have enough time for any extra exercise because of all the cleaning.”

You nodded slowly, puffing a breath out. At least he wasn’t calling you out or anything. You orbited him, cleaning and wiping down the equipment. It was surprising how much equipment you all used. You were glad to have the last pieces done and the room smelled of whatever the cleaner was.

Hanzo gave you another half smile and a shallow bow. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I didn’t know how much extra went into cleaning all the equipment.”

“I am grateful for the help,” the archer continued. He shot you a glance that you barely caught, but could not interpret. “I can show you a few different moves that will help you.” He shrugged a little too casually as if he didn’t care as much he did. “If you would like—next time.”

You looked at the spic-and-span room. “Next time.”

Truthfully, it seemed like he was determined to keep you specifically busy over the next few days as he asked for you to stay late, to help him clean up the range and stash the weapons of the day, to help him mop up the sweat from the thick mats in the gymnasium. There seemed to always be a few extra things that he asked you to do that kept you an hour or two later. Reinhardt’s training seemed very tame and easy compared to the torturing pace that Hanzo kept his team going through and you ached for sleep at the end of the day.

Two weeks later, Genji found you rubbing your sore shoulders and trying to sip the warm tomato soup that was the “healthy” lunch offering of the day. He sat down across from you, looking around cautiously and only half heartedly offering you the normal greeting. “You look lonely.”

“No.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of saying ‘no’ when you should be saying ‘yes’?” You shook your head and he nodded. “So what did you do?”

You scowled at the ninja, but were too tired to do more than that. “Nothing. I haven’t had time.”

The cyber-ninja glanced around nervously. “Well, something happened. You’ve been nowhere to be found and my brother is even more aggressive than before.”

You stared for a moment at Genji. You hadn’t ever seen him this nervous and twitchy as he kept glancing around the room. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Well...Hanzo’s been strange before—but now he’s...he’s not the same.” The cyber-ninja rolled his shoulders in an eloquent way. “The word is that he’s training his unit extra hard—ever since a certain new recruit joined.”

You glanced over his shoulder and saw the stern faced archer frowning at you and then Genji and then back at you. How much had he heard? A lot and apparently he was not happy about it, seeing his expression. “It’s nothing. Just the usual haze the new recruit stuff. It will get back to normal when I’m officially accepted as part of the group. By the end of the next mission, things will have settled down again and nobody will even notice me.”

Genji shifted, blocking your view. “I hope so.”

Almost before you could blink, you saw Hanzo towering over Genji’s back. “Is there a problem?” he rumbled.

You shook your head and Genji said, “Nothing’s wrong, anija. Just talking to my friend here.” He turned slightly with an air that seemed to scream sarcasm. “Is there a problem with you?”

Hanzo growled and folded his arms over his chest. “I was going to ask about some extra training since our mission is coming up soon.” He frowned. “You seem to be monopolizing all the time and attention of my agent, though.”

Genji shook and seemed to chuckle. “Just being friendly. Something you could learn to do.”

“Leave,” Hanzo spat out, snapping at the door. “Now.”

Genji seemed to be about to refuse, but the older man grabbed his shoulder and yanked. Genji slid out of the chair and across the floor before rolling over his shoulder and coming to his feet. “What was that for?”

Hanzo growled in his throat, a deep rumble that echoed in his barrel chest. “Leave.” He gestured frighteningly gracefully towards you. “We are talking.”

“There’s no need to be rude or—.”

“Then do not be.” He sighed heavily and picked up your hand. His other hand slipped under your elbow and he pulled your arm to force you to rise. “Leave us.”

Leading you away by your elbow, Hanzo walked you down the hallway past the ninja. Around a corner, he glowered over his shoulder one more time before hissing down at you. “And what did my brother want with you?”

“Nothing! Just to talk!” You jerked your arm, which had no affect on him at all. “We are...were friends.”

“I will forbid him from bothering you,” Hanzo replied seriously, his voice softening unexpectedly. “But you must also insist that he stop. Otherwise he will keep—.”

“Keep what? Talking to me?!” You jerked your arm again. “Or are you saying that I have no right to have friends now that I am a part of your unit?!”

“You may have all of the female friends that you require,” Hanzo growled lowly, his brows beetling down across his dark eyes. “I encourage you to have female friends.” His face turned fierce and he scowled again. “I simply refuse to let you be harassed by him.”

“Just Genji?” you spat back. “Or any male? You don’t own me.”

His face turned harder and for a moment, he looked grim and fierce and...so needy. Suddenly, he backed away for a moment. Dropping his arms, he huffed out a breath. “Make a decision then.”

“What?!”

He reared back, his chest out and his chin jutting forward. “I need you to decide whether you want me or him.” He shook his head, his long hair snapping over his shoulders. “I will not continually share you with him.”

Before you could even formulate a response, he turned sharply away. Stalking down the hallway, he added over his shoulder, “You have until sunset tomorrow to decide.”


	3. Chapter 3

You did not want to think what he meant. And he seemed to want you absolutely off balance, because he canceled training for the team the next day. He was not to be found on the range, in any of the leisure areas, the training rooms. He did not appear during mealtimes, either, despite you waiting the entire time.

At the tail end of the lunch hour, you were bored and restless and actually tempted to hit the archer the next time you saw him. You tossed the gun catalogue aside—it was the eighth time you had gone through it—and just waited at the cafeteria table.

Genji slunk in and looked around cautiously. He had been peculiarly absent today, and it was, for a moment, a relief to see him still standing. Bypassing the usual banter entirely as he sat down, he asked, “Is it safe to talk to you?”

You shrugged, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know. What the hell is the problem with him?”

Genji shook his head and shrugged. “What did he say?”

“He said....” You sighed heavily, feeling something in your throat. You rubbed your temples as they ached. “He said that I had until sunset to decide.”

“Decide what?” Genji peered at you curiously. “What’s going on between you two?”

“I don’t know!” you insisted. “He said something about sharing with you or something and that I had to decide between you and him.” Genji sighed and cursed softly. “And I had until sunset.”

The ninja nodded slowly. “So, I guess he’ll reappear then?”

“Reappear?” You snarled at the man without meaning to. “What is he? Santa Claus?”

Genji shook his head again. “Look...he’s giving you the time, so I kind of need to not be here.” He shrugged eloquently. “But for all that he claims that I am the best Shimada ninja—he received the same training. He can vanish at will, reappearing when he needs to. It also means that he is able to find ways to find out anything.”

“So am I not supposed to be speaking to you? Who does he think he is?” You slammed your hands on the table angrily. “What am I supposed to do? Go into hiding or join a convent or something?”

Genji sighed. “Look...he is..... Fuck. I’m going to just leave you alone.”

“But—!”

“But nothing,” Genji replied softly. “Look, I’ve already been told off once by him. And again because he made a report to the commander that I was harassing you. I’m on thin ice at the moment.” He shrugged wearily. “If he is a problem and if he is making you uncomfortable or something, then I’ll try to help you out. Otherwise, I’m going to just back away and try to give you both some space to figure whatever it is out.”

“The hell?!”

“I am going....” Genji nodded. He stood up again and gently pushed the chair back to the table. “This is...complicated. But, hey...I know he’s worth it.”

The man was already walking away, shaking his head and holding up his hands when you stood and grabbed his arm. “The hell?! What are you saying metal man?”

“Hey!” The cyborg jerked clumsily. “Don’t do that.” You struggled to keep hold of him. “Are you trying to get me killed?!”

You gaped up at him, utterly confused. “What are you saying?”

Genji looked around nervously and pulled you out of the cafeteria and into a side room—a tiny meeting room with a small round table and two chairs and a small lamp. You stumbled after him, your mouth gaping at him as he quietly shut the door behind you both. “Look—here’s the quick version. He is...very complicated. Some of it is my fault and some of it—.”

Hanzo’s voice boomed in the hallways, calling your name from beyond the door.

Genji shivered—you felt the shake—and he put his long fingers over your mouth. “Shh...just let him go by,” he whispered. Heavy footsteps approached and then went away from the door. Finally, there was silence and you both relaxed. Finally, the tall man stepped back a bit and dropped his hand. “I have maybe 30 seconds to explain. Hanzo’s...really backwards in a way. He’s trying to show that he likes you—.”

“What?!” you whispered.

“He likes you,” Genji insisted softly. “It’s just a...hard thing for him to express.”

“That makes no sense,” you hissed bitterly.

“I know. And that’s a bit my fault. You see, we’ve always been competitive.” You shrugged at that completely unnecessary comment. “For a while, we were even competing over the same girl.”

“Are you crazy?!”

Genji shrugged. “She was gorgeous and one of the like five girls in all of the territory our father approved of and one of the two that was already in a yakuza family.”

“So?!” You puffed out a breath. “Even I know that Hanzo is...possessive.”

“So he fell for her first. Fell hard, too, and said he was going to marry her.” The cyborg shrugged. “The only problem was she didn’t like him. Said he was boring and...well...she wanted a good time.”

“Oh hell no!”

“She.... I.... Well, I took her out, one time. A few times. Her father told her that she was crazy, that Hanzo was a better prospect and made began to make arrangements for them and she thought she’d just keep stringing him along with me on the side—.”

The door whipped open to reveal a very, very angry Hanzo. His hands were fists at his sides. His abs were tight and his pecs were heaving with every his growling breath. “What is going on here?!”

“Nothing,” Genji muttered sourly, holding up his hands. “Nothing is happening, anija. I’m trying to—.”

Hanzo growled and waved. “I do not care what you were trying to do.” He shouldered into the tiny room, driving you back towards on of the chairs as he wedged between you and the cyborg. He closed the door again, looming over you. “I will make this perfectly clear. This is...a personal matter.” He jammed his finger into Genji’s metal chest. “You are not to become involved.”

Genji sighed heavily. “Look, anija. We’re only friends—.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Hanzo snarled angrily.

“No, really!”

“I have heard that before as well,” the archer snarled.

“But it’s the truth!” insisted Genji. “Just like it was las—.”

“No!” Hanzo snapped. His hands curled into tight fists and he seemed to shake with the effort to avoid hitting something—or a very specific, very shiny, someone. “I will not listen to your excuses and lies. Not ever again.”

“It.... Dammit, Hanzo!” Genji growled. “Look...I know that you don’t believe me, but we are really just friends.”

Hanzo glared at his brother. “The field is yours. Why don’t you go play it and leave us alone?”

“Fine,” the cyborg snapped in irritation. “I was just leaving anyway.” He maybe spared you a glance, but with his cybernetic mask on, it was impossible to tell whether he was actually sympathetic or what. “And for the record...I am still your friend and would be glad to give you a friendly ear whenever you need it. And in dealing with my brother, I think you will.”

Hanzo glared down at you. His gaze seemed to soften just a hair. “I have told him to leave.” He sighed, shaking his head slightly. “It seems that you must make your choice, now, rather than at sunset as I had promised.” He shot another glare to the ninja. “Please...tell him to leave.”

You looked up at Hanzo. He seemed to be... almost pleading, but his voice was still so harsh, so growling. His glances up at his brother were so very angry. He was all but shaking with the effort to hold back whatever it was he was feeling. Then he would turn to you and his voice would have some slight change in tone or timber, his eyes would glisten with a bit of warmth.

“Please tell him,” Hanzo whispered.

You looked up at him. Was it possible that he had some kind of feeling for you? Then you saw him glance up again and he was again hard and vicious. It didn’t seem possible for his mood to flip-flop like that between fury at his brother and then...whatever it was towards you.

You swallowed heavily. It was impossible that he was in any way soft or warm. He was all hard and harsh and, based on the little that you knew and too much vague gossip, he had no softer side.

And now he was your unit commander. You would not be eligible for a transfer for another six months—if then. Until then, the archer held your career and your future in his hands. It really didn’t matter what the specific problem between the two brothers was—you needed to keep the archer happy if you ever hoped to have a future at Overwatch. You frowned and then shook your suddenly pounding head. “Genji...I—,” you started. “Please...I am sorry.” You glanced up at the tense form of the archer. “I am really sorry.”

“Okay,” Genji whispered doubtfully. “If you are sure?” You only nodded. “Just...let me know if you need my help.”

“I will.”

The ninja nodded, bowing slightly. “Then, I will leave you both.”

You flopped down on one of the chairs. Genji slipped past and ducked out of the room. Hanzo glowered after him like a stern school principal watching a chronic troublemaker. He did not even unclench his fists until the door closed again.

Then he turned towards you. His face went almost blank—impassive—but his eyes were so hot and needy that your core throbbed. “I am...glad that you made your choice.”

Your mouth went dry and you nodded as your body throbbed. You were waiting for The Move. The one where he started with whatever his version of sweet talk was and things started to make sense. You waited for him to say that he was glad that you chose him. You waited for him to do something.

Instead, he looked down at you and nodded tightly. Slowly his arms dropped and he took in a shaky breath. Then he turned and left.

You sat in the empty room—who knows how long? Questions kept flowing through your mind. The archer only left you alone with more questions than you had answers for. Without much of a direction in mind, you wandered the base aimlessly for a while before you went to the training room. Hopefully, it would be empty and you could get a few rounds in with a dummy as you tried to sort out your tangled thoughts.

Instead, Hanzo was there. He dripped sweat as he pumped up and down in jackhammer fast pushups. There were several free weights out, as well as a towel on one of the weight machines. One of the treadmills was jacked up high and showed that three miles had been run. Some insane workout mix from Lucio throbbed out from the speakers.

“Err...hey,” you said as you came in. “Can anyone join?”

He shifted into a plank position, his arms beautifully straining as his torso stayed straight above the mat, balanced on his bent arms. His long hair was in sweaty dark tendrils down his back and he stared down at the mat. The silence was deafening.

You took that as agreement and went to a corner to warm up. You bent carefully, stretching slowly. You were sinking into a split when you glanced up and saw him looking at you. Still in the plank position, his gaze was locked onto you.

You finished the split, looking up at him curiously. “So...do you care to tell me what all that was about?”

Hanzo grunted as he lowered himself down slowly. Gracefully, he went into a kneeling position, bowing his head. He seemed to be meditating—and ignoring you entirely.

You folded up and went closer to him, copying his kneeling posture. “Hanzo—could you tell me what all that was about?”

“What are you talking about?” Hanzo asked softly.

“Uhh...you almost pounding Genji into the floor? In the conference room?” You took a shaky breath and looked up at him. “What is this all about?”

He glanced at you and then looked away. Standing slowly, he walked to pick up the sweaty towel and wiped his arms and hands. You watched him dumbly, hoping still that he would say something. He walked slowly up to you, behind you.

“Our mission is soon.” His voice was a low whisper. “Meet up with me tomorrow to discuss it.”

“When? Where?”

“After...after training. After the briefing. I will be here, waiting for you. There are things I want to...to say.” Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw his hand trace your shape in the air reverently. Then it was gone. “Rest today.”

The next day, Hanzo took the unit through an entire morning of harsh training. You must have run four or five miles before going to the range. A collection of weapons—a pulse rifle, a converted automatic handgun with pulse ammunition, a mini laser-gun—waited for you all on the range.

“Overwatch has procured these weapons for your practice,” Hanzo said, briefly nodding at the preening procurement officer. “We are expecting these types of weapons on our mission.” His hand drifted over the pulse rifle. “A shipment of experimental pulse rifles like this one has been tracked to a King’s Row smuggler. These rifles are similarly modified.”

The stern man looked at each of you like you were errant schoolchildren. “Ideally, we will remain in the background as the other team poses as illegal buyers for the weapons. Unfortunately, we all know how easily these kinds of missions fail or have problems. In order to prepare to support the other team, we need to not only be able to recognize the cargo, but also to prepare to both counter and to fire these weapons.”

You shivered slightly. All of these weapons looked much heavier than the slender laser rifle you normally used and you weren’t exactly sure how you were going to manage the immense weapons. All of the other team members seemed to share your thoughts as they divided up into loose groups to begin target shooting downrange. One of the analysts—a delicate looking brunette named Annette Smithson who described herself as a “European mutt”—seemed to struggle to aim the mini gun downrange.

“Aim and fire,” Hanzo barked at her.

She nodded and hefted the thing on her hip before swinging it around. It was about to drop entirely but she finally managed to get it pointed downrange. You swallowed heavily as she fired the five shots and then staggered to set it aside again.

Walking up to the weapon, you also stumbled beneath its weight. Thankfully you were able to get it downrange, but the first shot kicked you backwards. Gritting your teeth, you stepped up to brace it again before the archer began barking at you. You got back up—there was no shame in getting kicked back so much when several members of the unit were also knocked back—but it wasn’t until you glanced at Hanzo that you were truly inspired to get up and try again before he got really mad.

Because if his looks were at all anything to go by, he was absolutely furious with you. His stare drilled into you. His arms were folded across his chest and his hands were in tight fists. Every muscle screamed his anger.

You braced harder against the weapon and fired your rounds at the target before circling to the next weapon. Whatever he was thinking, you did not want to know it. Every agent followed your stare and glanced at him, only to shiver and glance hurriedly away before studiously going back to their tasks.

The next thing on his training regimen was sparring—and because it was Wednesday, it was sparring with sticks, staffs and fake knives or swords. This was usually a thrilling day—watching the sparring and having a chance to learn from someone so skilled. There was no telling what might happen on missions and it was very likely that you could find a stick to defend yourself with if you were disarmed.

Hanzo was beautiful to watch as he went fluidly from move to move. He did the most amazing things, whirling his boken—his wooden sword—around in some way that it caught his opponent’s boken and sent it bouncing across the room. He then scowled and waved the agent off the mat. Which meant that it was now your turn.

You picked up a practice sword—a medium long one that he said was the shape of the katana with a nick in the bottom—and bowed shallowly before going onto the mat. Hanzo nodded his head regally and waited for you to take your place on the mat. You dropped into a ready stance and raised your weapon.

Hanzo snorted and raised his boken. In a blinding movement, he lunged forward and rolled the blade of his weapon around yours. Almost before you could blink, his sword had shoved aside yours. One of his hands snapped and his sword jerked yours away and out of your hands. The other hand wrapped around yours and he spun you around. Your arm was twisted and before you knew it, he had the back of wrist pinned to the small of your back and his other arm was wrapped around your neck.

You gasped and nervously tapped his arm twice. He grunted and, after a pause, released you. You sucked in a deep breath and began to walk away when you heard him snort, “Again!”

Flinching, you walked over to the stick and picked it up. Assuming your stance, you faced him again. He did not even give you a chance, moving in forward with blinding speed as he discarded his own weapon. Grabbing you, he swept your feet out from under you. You landed clumsily on your back and stars flickered around the edges of your vision. Your wrists slammed into the mat and your stick flew out of your hand.

You sucked in your shaky breath. Then you saw the scowling face above you. He had his forearm across your collarbone and one hand wrapped around your wrist to pull it tightly away from you. You sucked in another breath and realized that his hips were on top of yours.

You gave him a panicked look as he put more pressure on your chest. You couldn’t stop shaking for a moment as you stared up into the fierce face above you. Nervously, you tapped the mat two times. The archer’s face sharpened, his eyes narrowed and then he pulled back, his breath heaving in his barrel chest.

“Enough,” he growled. His hand shot out in a sharp, flat handed gesture. “Dismissed.”

Everyone blinked in surprise, including you. With soft mumbles, the other agents backed away and filed out. You rolled to your feet and picked up the sticks. The big man was kneeling on the mat, his fists tight on his thighs as he looked away from you. You looked at him for a moment more before he snapped and pointed at the door and you backed away silently.


	4. Chapter 4

Hanzo heard the door shut softly and bit his lip to keep from howling. He loved sparring, loved the purity of the boken. Learning martial arts made both the teacher and the student stronger, wiser—better. The traditional bond between master and student was as beautiful and timeless and necessary as air or water, and flowed just as effortlessly. He had always been able to relax and feel at ease as he sparred and hoped to eventually inspire that kind of feeling in his team. It was his dream that at least one of his team would be enthusiastic and talented and eager to learn more and share in this sacred bond of teacher and student.

But now that peace was shattered in the most burning and throbbing of ways. He had felt you against him. Felt your body warm and soft pressed against his and every thought of peace and purity fled from him like chicks from a fox.

At first it had been easy, flipping you around to demonstrate that move to the others. But he had held you so close this time that he could smell you. It made his body warm and start to harden and he had drifted for half a second into what he could reach, what he could touch, what he could taste from here. If you hadn’t tapped out when you did, he might have surrendered to the temptation to nip your neck.

You were so soft and he thought—for that rebellious moment—that your lithe body sank into his a bit. Blood rushed in his ears and almost deafened him and his eyes were filled with the slight blush of your skin. Then his mouth went dry and he felt everything start to rush into his groin.

To cover it, he had you try again, hoping that the movement would distract from the half-hardness in his loose, pleated pants. He didn’t think he had ever felt such warmth and softness before and it made him feel...playful. So he had rushed you, tossing the wooden sword aside and pouncing. He almost groaned then, because you froze and ended up on the mat underneath him.

There was that single blinding moment as everything in him switched from a dizzy need to possess you to something else. He hadn’t felt this lighthearted, playful feeling before and he expected you to react like a spitting cat, bucking up and wriggling. That was what he had imagined it in the darkness of the nights since you joined his team. He had imagined lunging at you, knocking you flat to the mat, and then feeling you writhing beneath him. In his fantasy, you grinned as you growled at him—you were not so strong as him and knowing that made him as rock hard as he imagined you would be wet—and tried to bridge, to wrestle him off only to realize that pressing your body against his cock made him even more aroused. Then he would stand and you would be against him, eager to be in his sinful hands and he could take you to his room and ravage you. He imagined giving you pleasure, hearing you gasp and feeling you shudder and welcoming him with your soft, heated warmth.

He wanted you more than he wanted his next breath, his bow, his dragons.

Instead, you panicked and seemed to shiver like a frightened rabbit. In his huge hands, you felt like a helpless forest creature, a fey that could be captured or cornered but would not be tamed. It awakened something primal in his blood and he felt a need like the need to hunt. It was the intoxicating feeling of holding a small creature, feeling it shake and tremble in his hand with the knowledge that he was a predator and that it was living at his mercy. Your eyes had been wide and frightened, but trusting—trusting him to not hurt you, to let you go. The hunter in him had seen it in you, felt the intoxication of capturing you, and holding you close to his body and knowing you were a wild creature that could not be forced but only coaxed to him.

It made him hot and hard, his cock throbbing and weeping at the thought of you. The blood boiled inside him and the thoughts buzzed around, chasing each other in a rough tumble. Every thought was clawing at him, searing him, and they all were centered on the desperate need to capture you, keep you, hold you close and above all protect you from harm.

He did not know what he had done to deserve this chance, but he wanted to do anything— fight, claw, coax, capture, chase—to be worthy of it. He had failed so many times—failed to protect Genji, failed to do his duty. He failed so much, failed so many times. Everyone he had ever loved, ever admired or respected, he had failed in some way. And now you were in his hands....


	5. Chapter 5

There was a mission planning meeting before lunch and all of you had plenty of time to shower and get into your uniforms beforehand since Hanzo cut short the sparring session. Unusually silently, you all filed in and took your seats. The archer came in after you all with a thick stack of folders that he dropped on the corner of the table.

There was a folder for each of you and you took the stack, thumbed through it to find the folder with your name on it and then passed the rest around. Everyone began opening their folders and browsing through the mission brief.

Clicking buttons on the head of the table, Hanzo dimmed the lights and started the presentation. “Here is the layout of the expected battle theater.” He pulled out a thin metal pointer and began gesturing. “Juarez, you will be with Hathaway at the south end of the block. Shang and Hamato, you will be guarding the north end. I will need you, Patel, here at the top of this building—you will be able to guard Smithson as she taps into the communication antenna and the power grid. You will have to monitor the police band, the security firm’s communications, and be able to ensure that we have a constant connection with Athena.”

Hanzo slid the pointer closed. “The other team will approach from the south and meet in the warehouse on the southeast side of this intersection. Talon operatives are expected to approach from the east, but it is fairly certain that they will have other teams coming in from all directions. There is even a small chance that they will have a team in the sewers under 39th street because that is one of the main storm systems and the redundant power lines underneath the street. However, that is a more remote probability because of the increased security measures that were recently installed. I will expect you, Smithson, to monitor the security firm’s communications to warn us.”

There were nodding heads all around you. You frowned as you thumbed through your folder. You had the mission summary, the list of agents and their code names, hard copies of the maps that Hanzo and so on, but you were missing your own brief. Your name wasn’t even listed as an active member and, come to think of it, Hanzo did not list your position.

Hanzo’s hand was over the presentation control buttons when your hand went up. “Yes?”

“With all due respect, sir,” you began softly. “Where is my position?”

He frowned at you. “You do not have one on this mission.” He looked aside towards Smithson. “As I was saying, Smithson, the power—.”

“Sir?” You frowned as you looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean? Why?”

He shot you a dark look—a look that clearly said that you were fucking with fire—and enunciated very clearly, “You do not have a position on this mission.”

You went pale and jerked back at his icy tone. Smithson shot you a half-worried, half-supportive look. Patel looked at Hanzo and you and Hanzo again before looking studiously down at the maps. None of the other agents were willing to meet your eyes after his icy putdown and your obvious simmering fury. After the meeting was concluded, they were silent and had their heads bowed to avoid meeting your confused gaze.

You had had enough and growled in the empty room. “What the hell?!”

Hanzo stopped his serene collection of the mission files to look at you. His face was still stern, but seemed a little less icy. “I would appreciate it if you watched your language in public.”

You slammed your folder down on the conference table. “What the hell do you mean that I’m not on the mission?”

He straightened proudly with a strange look on his face. “After this afternoon?”

You gaped at him. The sparring? That’s what this was about? You losing against him during sparring? You slammed your folder down. What the hell was going on? “Why?!” you bellowed. His hand came up and his mouth opened, but you kept shouting, “You know what? Never mind. I don’t care. You have absolutely no reason not to include me. Whatever—it’s your loss.”

You shoved the folder on the table and stalked out of the conference room. Jesse and Genji were walking past in the hallway as you slammed the door behind you. Genji jumped back with a clank and Jesse looked at you with a startled expression on his face.

“Well, what in tarnation?” asked the cowboy with wide eyes. “What’s that all about?”

You growled up at the big man. “He’s impossible.”

Genji looked down at you. It was one of the rare times that he had his faceplate off and you were struck for a moment at how similar he looked to Hanzo. He only offered you a sympathetic smile, but said nothing.

“He is absolutely impossible,” you hissed again.

The door opened and you glanced over your shoulder. The tall archer glowered behind you—you could feel the angry heat radiating off of him behind you. “And this is?”

Jesse chuckled nervously and scratched at his whiskers. “Uhh..hold on, partner. I don’t think this is—.”

Hanzo hissed behind you. A huge hand clapped on your shoulder and he pulled you closer to him. You tensed, feeling his muscular body behind you. For a moment, you were confused—there seemed to be something poking you from behind. It must be the folders and that made you even more mad—the damn bastard had left you out of the mission!

Genji glanced at all of you and tugged on the cowboy’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here, Jesse.”

“Uhh...are y’all okay?” Jesse asked you both. He waved vaguely at Genji. “Is there something we can do to help?”

“Yes!” you replied.

“No!” Hanzo snapped at the same time.

The cowboy tipped his hat and scratched his scruffy head. “Any chance that y’all could agree with one answer?”

You felt the huge hand on your shoulder tighten. Hanzo’s voice answered first, “We do not require your assistance. We were going to go talk—.”

“Absolutely not,” you interrupted. You jerked your shoulder out of his grasp and stalked away. Whatever the men were saying behind you, you ignored it as you went down the hallway to the first place that you could sit down. The cafeteria was not even open right now—it was too early for dinner and the kitchen staff was busy preparing the huge platters and tubs of food for the base. So, the cafeteria smelled amazing—roast chicken with potatoes and peas and carrots along with cornbread and biscuits—but there wasn’t a single thing to eat.

Which left you to stew. Whatever Hanzo was thinking, it was making you damn crazy. You trained damned hard to even get into Overwatch. You had busted your ass to get your weapon specialization certifications and to get good enough to be assigned as a mission agent. You had worked damned hard and Hanzo was apparently more than willing to throw all that away. And he was the one that arranged for your transfer!

You puffed out a breath. Maybe he had some good reason? Maybe he could explain his crazy behavior? Now that you were starting to calm down, you were trying to figure out that maybe there was some reasonable explanation. It just didn’t make any kind of sense that he would sit you on the sidelines after all the hard work you put in. You were just as skilled as Smithson or Juarez! Reinhardt was constantly complaining that he needed more people because there weren’t enough field agents. So were 76 and McCree—everyone was desperate for people who could and would do the job.

You saw the kitchen staff stocking the chiller shelves with individually packed salads, puddings, and fruit cups and grunted. They stared at you—you were probably glowering at everyone, you realized—and then hurriedly turned back to their task. You frowned and got up to leave.

Without a better destination, you changed into your sweats and went to the workout room. You were surprised to see the archer already there. He was stretching over a deep split, his back to the door. He glanced up to look at your reflection as you stepped in.

For a moment, you thought that you saw his eyes crinkle in a smirk, but as soon as he saw your scowl, he grit his teeth and nodded, dropping his face. You turned your back to him and began to do lunges and squats. He went to the treadmill as you began jumping rope. He went to doing planks and pushups as you pummeled the punching bag. He did weight lifting as you went to the treadmill. You finally got off the treadmill and went back to the mat to begin your cool down stretches.

You knelt, gently stretching your arms over your head. The workout had soothed your temper some, made you feel a bit better. In fact, you were positively calm compared to when you stomped out of the conference room. You felt exhausted after all that—although you did notice that the archer had kept on going with his workout while you were still here. It startled you to realize that he worked harder than anyone and you watched his reflection as he tossed the sweaty towel in the hamper.

The man came and knelt behind you. You dropped your arms to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Slowly, he put his hands on your shoulders. His eyes were locked onto the mirror—wide, coffee dark eyes looking into yours. Gently, his hands began massaging your neck.

The soft kneading and heat from his hands made you relax. He kept watching you, his face carefully impassive as he studied your reflection. His hands did not stop their soothing movements. He seemed to surround you—his muscular chest totally covered your back, his legs were spread open around your hips and bent legs, his hands running down your arms. You felt him pull gently on your shoulders until you were sitting with your back against his body.

Your eyes kept trying to close and your body kept trying to lean into his. The bastard did know exactly what to do in order to get your traitorous body to sink into his arms. Forcing yourself to rally, you scowled into his reflection—but it came out more as a tired grimace. “So do you care to explain to me why I’m getting benched on this mission?”

His hands froze, his eyes shocked and wide in the reflection. “I....” he began, his voice trailing off after the single word.

“I worked damned hard to become a member of Overwatch. I worked damned hard to become a field agent.” You scowled into the mirror. “I have a right to know why you’re throwing it all away.”

His hands stilled on your shoulders. He nodded slowly. “You did work hard. I know that you worked hard, but—.”

“Then tell me why!”

He pulled your body against his and his voice became harsh. “I did not think you were ready.” Hanzo grimaced at the lie—he knew he should have said he wasn’t ready. Wasn’t ready to watch you in danger, not ready to bear the responsibility should anything happen to you. Not yet. He echoed his own thought, “Not yet.”

You growled, tensing and getting ready to pull out of his grasp. Instead, of letting you rise to your feet, his arms wrapped tightly around your torso and pulled you against him. His hot body was plastered against against you, making you feel suddenly flushed with heat. His voice came out in a whispering hiss. “You are not ready to leave on the mission.”

“How?!”

Hanzo frowned, realizing how rightfully furious you were. He swallowed heavily. In your current state, he wondered if you would rebel like Genji. Genji always did whenever he made a decision the younger man disagreed with. In a tense situation, he needed you to obey him completely, to trust him completely so that he could keep you safe. He knew he would never forgive himself if something happened to you. Finally, he asked, “Who am I?”

You rolled your eyes and growled, “You are Unit Leader Hanzo Shimada.”

“No,” he snapped back. His hands wrapped your arms, his grip firm and unshakable. “Who am I?”

You shook your head. “What the hell?! What do you want?”

His face leaned close to your ear as his arms pulled you even closer to him. “I am your Master.”


	6. Chapter 6

You did not know what to say and you pulled away from him. His arms tightened around you, his face watching you over your shoulder at your reflection. “No,” you hissed. “You—.”

“I am your unit leader,” Hanzo interrupted smoothly. “I decide who goes on missions and who stays behind.” His hands squeezed gently. “If you refuse to recognize that I am your master, then you are a danger to yourself and others. I will not let you put yourself at risk when you rebel—.”

You growled at him. “Don’t tell me that you did this to the entire team? Juarez and Smithson and Patel?”

Hanzo’s face did finally soften into a smirk. “Hardly.”

“So you’re picking on me? Why?!”

His face dipped into your neck. His breath brushed against your skin. “I am not going to let you put yourself at risk.” He took another breath, his mouth so close to you, but not touching. “Not until you acknowledge me as your Master. Not until I know without a doubt that you will listen and obey. When you do, I will be able to trust you completely.” He took in a breath, let the tang of your scent tickle his nose. “And I know that you will...trust me as well.”

You growled slightly and his looked at your reflection in the mirror. “You know that you can trust me.” You scowled. “You should at least.”

Suddenly, he released you. “Now, I need to rest for the mission tomorrow.” Ever so slightly, he pressed against you again for half a moment. “I should be back around 1900 hours tomorrow—not too late for you to meet me when I return.”

You scowled at him as he drew back from you. Your body was suddenly chilled, missing his warmth. Your skin prickled as his fingers trailed over your arms as he stood up. For a breathless moment, you wanted to whimper as he left you alone in the workout room.

The next day, since you were not a part of the mission, you were mainly alone on the base. You took the rare morning to sleep in. You missed breakfast, but you did catch an early lunch after spending some time on the range.

Genji came in to sit down at a nearby table as you were sulking over your salad and took off his face plate. You stood up and tossed the salad and went to the ninja’s table. He reared back as you flopped down in front of him. His voice rapped out, “Hey...what are you doing here? Isn’t your team out?”

“Yeah—and your brother grounded me.” You scowled and folded your arms on the table. “You don’t know why, would you?”

Genji pulled back, looking nervously around the scantily populated room. “Why? I.... Well, what did he say?”

You growled, dropping your face into your folded arms. “He said...dammit.”

Genji’s chair scraped back and you saw him pointedly wave to several people. Finally he turned back to you. “So, he said ‘dammit’?” He cocked his head and pulled off the faceplate. “It’s very unlikely that he would curse arbitrarily.”

You looked up at him angrily. “He said that I’d be grounded until....” Your words became breathy and whispery. “Until I recognized him as...as—.”

“As what?” You growled. “It is also unlikely he would simply trail off like that.” Genji waved again as two medical techs came in. He leaned close. “So, do you care to finish your thoughts of his thoughts?”

You felt a flush creep up on your cheeks. Whispering as softly as you could, you replied, “He said that I would not be allowed on a mission until I say he’s my...my master.”

Genji sighed and nodded. “Good luck.” His eyes twinkled as he smiled in sheepish embarrassment. “I...I don’t think that I need to really need to know what you do behind closed doors.”

“Nothing happened!” You groaned as your face went red. “Nothing and absolutely nothing has ever happened!”

Genji looked down at you in surprise. “But.... I mean.... You mean, you never...?”

“Never,” you groaned.

Genji looked flummoxed. “When he transferred you.... I had assumed that you and he...?” He blinked with an owlish expression. Suddenly his expression turned serious. “Well, it doesn’t matter what I...assumed. If you are being pressured or harassed, then of course I will support you going to the commander to remove him from his command—.” You shook your head sharply and the cyborg shrugged sadly. “It’s a shame, though. He’s done so well leading his missions....”

You puffed out an anxious breath. “No...it’s not that. I don’t want him to be removed.” You whimpered softly, “I just...don’t understand. What does he want?”

“If he is abusing his power, it doesn’t matter what he wants.” His voice was soft in sympathy and he paused to look at you. “And is he abusing his power...?”

“He’s...not.” You puffed out a breath, trying to figure out what you were trying to say. “Maybe I just do not understand.”

“Oh,” Genji clucked. “Well...what do you want me to do? How can I help?” He laughed softly. “I mean...I have a vested interest in making sure that you are happy.”

You made a rude noise. “Oh? What is that supposed to mean?”

The ninja tilted his head. “If I’m reading the signs right, then I think that you’ll be very good for my brother. And if you’re happy, then I’ll bet in the long run, it will make him happy.” He cocked a smile towards you. “Not to mention that he’s threatened to kill me—again—if I get too close or if I make you unhappy. And, for the record, he’s killed me once and I don’t recommend the experience.”

You laughed shortly at that. “So how—? What do I do now?”

“Did he tell you anything?”

“Just the time that the team was supposed to be back.”

“Why?”

You puffed out a breath and tied to think. “I guess...that he wanted me to meet the team.”

Genji smiled wide. “Well, maybe you’ll get some answers if you do that.” He shrugged, waving towards another tech. “It couldn’t hurt, could it?”


	7. Chapter 7

You refused to give that man the satisfaction of having you panting and waiting for him to return. Who did he think he was? What were you supposed to do? Sit down—or kneel down—and put your hands up like a begging puppy? You absolutely refused to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, you paced around the base. You walked around the hallways, passing through the training room and the cafeteria and the library and on and on. You even went through the main meditation gardens to the outdoor track and walked laps around it.

Halfway through your third lap, you were silently amazed by the breathtaking sunset overhead. There was a small thumbprint gibbous moon in the cobalt blue and a pair of stars shown. The cobalt faded to a stain of purple before becoming red, scarlet, orange and then a brilliant golden. Streaky clouds were a dusty gray on top and shining gold on the bottoms. You stared upwards at the amazing sunset. Another sparkling pinprick star appeared. It wasn’t the first star in the sky, but maybe it was lucky nonetheless and you offered a quick wish.

“I wish....please...all I want is for this to make sense,” you breathed your wish. “Just...I want to have it all make sense.”

The star twinkled impersonally overhead. If it heard you, there was no sign.

In fact, if anything, it ignored you entirely because the dropships arrived right at that moment. With a whoosh, they floated over your head to the hangar. You just watched them, annoyed as your heart gave an extra hard thump or two at the thought that Hanzo might have seen you standing alone on the track.

Quite deliberately, you sauntered slowly around the track and back through the meditation gardens. You went slowly, trudging through the hallways reluctantly. It wasn’t that you wanted to disobey the implicit order, but rather you weren’t in a hurry to obey it. In fact, the only reason you were even considering it was that you did not want to have to deal with any possible insubordination write ups. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

You were moseying down the hallways when you saw the first groups of returning from the hangar. Patel and Smithson and their families passed by as they went back to their apartments and quarters. As you kept walking, you saw more groups pass, as well as a very tired Angela and an exhausted Ana. They only waved vaguely at you as they trudged down the hallway.

There was an agent in the next hallway—a huge, hulking man who looked like a blond Viking. He always had a smile on his face and never seemed to have a “Hanzo kind of day”. Now, of course, he was covered in dust and dirt and had scratches here and there and he looked weary. A dark skinned woman with amazing braids that ended in colorful beads ran up and grabbed him, yanking on his shoulders so that he bent to her. She whispered something to him that made him blush and he kissed her lips so gently and softly and reverently in return. Then he kissed her one more time and picked up his bag of gear to follow her down the halls.

It was so sweet and touching that it made your teeth hurt to watch it and know that it wasn’t going to happen to you.

You slunk around a corner and there the archer was—larger than life and twice as mad. His legendary bow was over his shoulder and his other hand gripped the tooled leather band of the heavy quiver. His hands looked raw and his face was almost haggard until he saw you.

In two steps, he was right over you. His scowl spoke volumes about his mood—as in, not happy with you. In fact, he was furious with you.

The quiver hit the ground and slapped against the wall before falling to the floor. Instantly, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around to shove you against the wall with one wrist against the small of your back. As soon as your front hit the cool plaster, his overheated body was pressed against your back. He slid against you and you heard him catch his breath as you somehow fit even closer together. His other hand hit the wall beside your shoulder, making you squeak a little.

His head dipped and he whispered in your ear, “You are late.” You thought that you felt him shudder slightly and then heard, “I will have to punish you for that.”

You whimpered a little, a thread of worrying fear in your stomach. The scent of bittersweet sweat tickled your nose with a soft, smoky tang of incense. His hips shifted against the back of yours, rubbing against your buttocks in unmistakable hardness. Instinctively, your hips bucked backwards and the grinding motion made you keen softly. His breath hissed in response.

You whimpered, your forehead against the cool wall. Somehow, a bit of heat from him pooled into a hot slick between your legs. He pressed against you harder and your next breath was full of incense and sweet sweat. Aching hot muscles surrounded you and you zigzagged between cool and hot.

He dipped his nose to nuzzle the shell of your ear. “Before I met you, I thought I was a disciplined man.” His voice was a dry hiss in your ear. “Before I met you, I thought I was disciplined and I could call myself honorable. Before I met you, I walked the path of the warrior and obeyed the code of the warrior—the code of bushido.”

He pressed against you again and every particle of your flesh seemed hyper-aware of the man as his hips slid against yours. “And now.... I cannot do anything. I cannot train without wanting you by my side. I cannot lead my team without wanting to see you. I cannot eat or sleep without craving you.”

You whimpered again as he nuzzled your neck and even you knew the sound was desperate. You felt his lips brush the nape of your neck and his hand slid to grip your shoulder. Unexpectedly, he massaged your shoulder and you whined and shivered in his grasp. He slid even harder against you. Every muscle clenched hard as he fit himself even closer to you.

“This is what you do to me,” he hissed in your ear. His hips ground against you, his hard cock rutting against your hip. “You drive me mad and I can no longer exist without you.”

“I crave you,” he whispered. “I cannot stop craving you.” Hanzo ground his hips against you again, his breath blowing through your hair and prickling your skin. His free arm slid around your waist to pull you even closer. His voice dropped to a rough, deep growl that seemed to wrap around that heat that insisted on weakening your knees. “Even when I am furious at you, I cannot stop craving every part of you.”

He slid even closer to you, his body hot and needy and every muscle was clenched hard as he fit himself closer. “This is what you do to me,” he hissed in your ear. His hips kept sliding and thrusting. “You drive me mad—and I can no longer exist without you.” His hands slid down to grip your hips. Tilting his wrists so that your hips curled towards his, he whispered, “I cannot live without you.”

“That’s not my fault,” you hissed out.

“It is not your fault,” he agreed with a dark and sensual tone against your neck. “You are not at fault for being so...so soft, so desirable.

“But I cannot live with this chaos, this hunger.” His lips brushed your hair and sank to caress your neck. “I am done living as a monk—done with desiring and not having, done seeing and not touching, done with pretending that I need nothing more.” His voice turned harsh. “I am done with sharing you with everyone. I am done with having nothing while you give so much to everyone else.”

You shook your head. “But I am not doing anything!”

He hissed, grinding even harder and you felt weak against his strength. Heat pooled in your body and you thighs clenched so hard they trembled. “You scarcely need to do anything. Your smile, your laugh—you give these to everyone but me.” He grit his teeth. “Even my brother gets more than I do.”

“What do you want?!” Your eyes were glancing wildly and you could feel that your pupils must have been blown wide. “I don’t do anything!”

You were dizzy and disoriented for a moment. There was that tight clench that kicked right in your stomach, twisting your core and making it pulse. You felt your breath whistle out between your clenched teeth and you bit your bottom lip to stop the aching whimper from coming out.

It was like he heard it anyway. He let out a soft, needy sound in your ear and you couldn’t help but buck into him. He was an immovable wall, hot and so hard he made you throb. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “I ached for you for the entire mission.”

You shook your head wildly. You were supposed to be angry at him, and not melting like a July popsicle in his arms. His hand released the wrist at your back to try to wrap around you and your arm flapped weakly. You pounded your fist into the wall. “I.... Dammit. You left me behind!”

He whispered in a rough voice that sounded like rye whiskey running over gravel and cut glass. “I.... You were...safe here.”

That managed to get you back in your head. “What?!” Your hands curled into fists and pounded the wall. “You know that I busted ass to be a field agent.”

He nodded, his lips dipping to your shoulder and then back to your neck. “I...I know.” He shuddered, gripping you so tight you thought he might pull you directly inside him. “I—.”

Gabriel’s voice sliced through the air. “Shimada! Where the hell are you?!”

Hanzo’s arms tightened around you, almost covering you. He glanced down the hallway and you felt his muscles tighten. He hissed at the sound, turning to look down the otherwise empty hall. His voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I need to turn in my reports.”

You shook off his grip. “I....” You wanted to say something like “I know”. Instead, you growled, “I am leaving.”

He frowned, backing up a few steps. Suddenly he was cold and distant again, as if he hadn’t been pressed against you like a horny teenager. His back was rigidly straight and he picked up the bow and quiver and simply walked away.


	8. Chapter 8

Hanzo growled low as he stalked out of the huge man’s office. His body still ached from the mission and his blood burned. He had been thinking of you the entire mission—wondering what you were doing and who you were talking to. He had glanced up as everyone got settled into position and something reminded him of you. Then everything reminded him of you—the fluttering of a tiny bird overhead, the soft scent of a distant city garden, the warm breeze wrapping around him. He had almost regretted not bringing you along so that he could just see you. Almost—he was positioned on a ridiculously high, small perch so that his almost silent weapon was most effective and you would have been crushed against him.

Which made his body harden desperately.

The sting was swiftly accomplished and the trap sprung easily. It was a clockwork mission—every piece in place and functioning perfectly. His team’s work had shown hard-won excellence.

When they had loaded back up on the transport, he had been actually impatient to take off. Everyone had been talking about getting back to their families and friends and celebrating. He ignored them all—all the laughs of who was buying the first round, all the shouts of who was going to be late for dinner, all the ribald jokes of who would or would not be welcome in the bedroom—as he moved to the front of the ship. He gripped the long bar that ran down the middle of the ceiling like in a subway car as he tried to get where he could see the huge front window.

The sky had been blissfully clear as they zipped from the slum towards the base. It was a strange and wonderful thing to see a sunset from this dizzying height and watch it turn everything golden. He was as eager as a schoolboy looking forward to summer to simply be back.

It sent a small thrill down his back to think that you would be in the crush of people waiting for the drop ship’s return. He tried to predict whether you would be in the crush of people that were always right at the end of the gangplank or if you’d be off a little ways. Perhaps you’d be on the fringes of the crowd, unwilling to get crushed by the mob. His mind flickered through all the ways he might see you—pictured you in a dozen outfits at a dozen places in the crowd.

His throat ached as he thought of seeing you in the hangar. He had done this so many times—left alone and come back to an equally cold, empty apartment—that it was sending chills across his skin to think that he finally would have someone waiting for him. He had always burned, seethed, to see that his brother always had someone—usually several someones—who were joyful to see him return when he had no one. He had begun simply being the last one off the ship because it was far easier to avoid both being seen alone and easier to avoid the black pit of seeing everyone else being greeted by friends and loved ones. But you would be there. Finally, he would have someone waiting up. That thought about crumpled him to his knees. You had chosen him, had even chosen him over his brother. He had told you when he would be back, had driven his team mercilessly so that there would be no delays.

He had thought briefly that he wanted to bring you some small gift back. There was not enough gold or diamonds or anything in the world to express the sheer joy he had at finally having someone choosing him, waiting for him, but he perhaps he should have gotten something. He had laughed at himself, the sound lost in the revelry of the other agents behind him. If he was not at least a little restrained, he was sure to foil his own plans with his overeagerness.

He was scanning the horizon relentlessly to see the first outlines of the base, his mind tilting softly like a buzz from sake as he thought about going to you and having you waiting for him. Even the thought that you might still be annoyed about missing the mission didn’t cool his thoughts. He could take that, could take anything as long as you were there. He noted the towers and saw the huge structures that covered the satellite dishes. The ship slowed to a crawl as it glided over the base and he could get clear views of the buildings.

Then he saw the huge walking track and the lonely form walking there. The bottom of his whole being fell to his feet and seemed to whisk out of the bottom of the ship. That was you—he was sure of it. It gave him chills as every drop of warmth seemed to bleed out of his feet. He would be alone again, surrounded by agents who all had someone waiting for them. His teeth grit so hard his jaws hurt.

He stomped out in the middle of the throng of people, stalking away from the ship impatiently. Now his body thrummed with anger as potent as his happiness had been before. His arms and legs trembled with trying to hold himself upright without slamming his fists into a wall. He had begun thinking of the bottle of sake he had hidden in his apartment. When he had joined Overwatch, Genji had needled him to give up hard drink, but he had nothing else to keep him warm.

Then he had turned the corner and saw you there. His body hardened in a burning mix of anger and the hardest crush of arousal that he had ever felt. His weapons hit the floor and the wall with the bang and he couldn’t stop reaching for you.

He told you that you were late, it was on the tip of his tongue to shout at you, to punish you right there. He wanted to humiliate you, to drag you into the hell he felt he was in. He had wanted to made you afraid to disappoint him again.

Instead, as soon as his body had pressed against yours, he had forgotten it. No, not forgotten it—it had transformed and slid from fury to arousal like quicksilver. You had heard it, felt it and it seemed, for a breathless moment, it seemed like you were answering his body’s demands. Your soft sound—that breathless little sound—and his will melted. 

He was trying to figure out which room with a lockable door was closest when Reyes had called him out. Of course he had forgotten the reports—he had been absolutely obsessed with being next to you instead of filling the travel time by completing the reports. His body was still ringing with his heat like an animal in season. It took everything he had to walk away from you, to go evenly and patiently to the seething Latino man.

Now that he was back, he chided himself relentlessly in his head. He had been impatient. He had cornered you like a thug desperate for a whore. He had reeked of the mission—gunpowder, smoke from the small fires, bitterness from the sewers and the sooty smells that lingered above the site. He needed to be cleaned up first. He owed you the dignity of his patience, even if his body was throbbing the whole time.

As he walked down the hallways to his apartment, he realized that he was eager to see you again. You could fight him, anger him—everything and anything as long as you did not send him away. He grimaced bitterly—he needed patience, needed to show you the best of him. He didn’t blame you—now—for being overwhelmed in the face of his need. He had not meant to show you how starved he was for your attention, to scare you with how much he needed you. He owed you—and himself—the chance to be his best.


	9. Chapter 9

If you thought you were mad before, you were beyond furious now. How dare he act like nothing was...whatever it was! You grinned at the scathing shouting from the hangar and variations of Hanzo’s name being shouted along with curses and profanities in English and Spanish. At least someone was able to give him what he deserved.

Turning away, you stalked back to your quarters and slammed the door behind you. It didn’t help to hear the bang of the door. It didn’t help to pound the heavy pillows on your couch. It didn’t even help to get your pint of Double Choco-Rama ice cream from the mini-fridge in your apartment and turn on your favorite show.

Instead, that throbbing pulse in your groin seemed to just sit there as if it were waiting for something—or someone.

No. Totally no. Not in a thousand years. Not in a million years. Not if he was the last man on the planet. Not if you were the last woman on the planet. Not if your life depended on it. Not if his life depended on it. Not ever. Never.

You sulked over your ice cream and shut off the show. You didn’t want to see the sappy, perfectly proportioned heroine almost kiss her crush and then go off with her equally beautiful best friend—who was secretly plotting against her—to cry over it all.

That heartbeat between your legs wasn’t helping either. Just thinking about how rough his voice sounded as it whispered in your ear made you feel a sharp stab of arousal. The scent, his scent of sweat and battle grime and incense, seemed to linger softly around you.

You needed to get him out of your system and off your mind. A shower seemed like a good idea and you threw your ice cream back in the tiny freezer of your mini-fridge. A quick grab of your towels—the new ones that were soft and fluffy still—and your clothes and a roll of the taps and you were in hot water heaven. The pattering of the shower totally drowned the sound of his words. The hot water masked the feel of him against you. The scent of your soap—an aloe and shea and lemon soap that Tracer brought you from the last time she went to London—masked the last of the smell of incense.

It was a relaxing thing to just stand in the water, to feel it pulse around you and feel like you didn’t have a care in the world. It made you think inexplicably of an old storybook you saw of two kids going to their grandmother’s house—how they didn’t want to travel, how their grandmother didn’t have any electronics or games, but instead showed them “old fashioned” things like sewing and knitting and making cakes and cookies. How she showed them how to make a snowman and how to make real hot chocolate. It was a favorite book because there were prettily decorated pages that gave the recipes for all the treats the grandmother made—the cookies with chocolate and butterscotch chips, the sweet and spicy apple cider, and the candied bacon—as well as rules for the games that they played. Such simple pleasures—warm sweet drinks and games with clear rules and goals—always made you relax.

You felt better—certainly smelled better with the soft scent of lemon and aloe coming off your skin—and were more ready to face the world. You did finally have something like a plan on what you wanted to do. A way to survive the 6 months until you could get out of this crazy outfit. Of course, after six months of this kind of crazy, you’d be a buffed out basket case.

You laid down on your bed to read for a little while. Your novel wasn’t interesting—a pulp romance that you bought because you could get 10 of them for a piddling price. The main reason you even kept a hold of these books was because they were easy to stash into your pack on missions. Boy meets girl. They split up in a crazy fight. The girl gets into trouble—usually money trouble or pregnancy trouble—and goes to guy for help (because miraculously guy has inherited/saved/made a zillion). Guy propositions girl. They fall in love again. They have a two-and-a-half page epilogue of how happy they finally are together.

You got through a chapter before your eyes were drifting closed. The proposition chapter was contorted and contrived in every one of these. There was never any rational solution or explanation. It was always “you must sleep with me”. Of course, if there wasn’t a proposition chapter, then the rest of the story wouldn’t get together either, but it didn’t make it less contrived.

You really wanted the smut chapters to begin. A nice smutty scene or two would help make you feel better. Descriptions of throbbing and muscles and sweaty flesh always made you horny, but more than that, you could seriously also use the self-indulgent fantasizing of the sexual kind.

You turned off your lamp and tossed the book aside. It slid off the top of the nightstand and hit the floor. Whatever. As long as you picked up before the inspection the day after tomorrow, you’d be fine.

Sleep was a long time coming and you were understandably groggy when you felt the prickle of something. You cracked open one eye and, in the shadows of the room, you saw a movement—the shadow of a movement. Before you could react in some startled response, the shadow moved and was next to you.

A large, rough hand came out of the shadows and touched your shoulder. You yelped softly as Hanzo emerged from the dark corner. He was clad in a loose silk kimono—a dark gray yukata and hakama rather than the kyudo gi that left his arm and half his chest exposed. Slowly, he knelt on the bed beside you, his hands drifting to wrap around your waist as he laid down behind you.

“Did you miss me?” he hissed in your ear. His body slid closer, fitting against you. “I missed you.”

One hand slid up to your breast. “You must be my other half—you are the softness to my hardness, the light to my darkness.” He sighed into your hair as he slid even closer—so close that you could feel every muscle as he took in a deep breath. Unconsciously, you sucked in a lungful of air as well. “You are my opposite—and can make me whole.”

He was so hot—every part of his body was burning against your skin. It was like a fever, like lava wrapped in smooth skin. You wanted to sweat, to pull the overly hot blanket off and kick it off the bed—anything to be cool—because the searing hot was burning you and making you writhe. The only problem was, it wasn’t from heat on your skin, but under it and burning in your blood.

You took in a shaky breath. This was a dream of heat and scented silk. It had to be. You knew you had locked your room like you normally did. There was no way anyone else should be in the room with you, on your bed and holding you.

You heard a soft sound behind you and flinched slightly as he dipped his head to rub his cheek against your neck. Your skin prickled as you felt his tongue lap at your ear. “W-w-what are you doing here?”

Hanzo smiled in the dark, taking another deep breath of your scent. “I am here to..to tame you.”

You stiffened at that. “I am not some damned wild animal, Hanzo.”

He nodded in the dark, his arms tightening around you slightly. “You are not a wild animal. Neither do you recognize me as your master. The most magnificent of horses is as useless as a poor one if it is unbroken. An expensive hound is as useless as a mutt until it is trained.”

That made you jerk in his arms. “You are crazy. Get off me.”

“Get off!” Your voice turned shrill. Your trapped arms did not know what to do and they tried to push him away. Instead, they landed his hips. Your hand brushed against the hot silk and felt the hard cock that jutted out. It startled you and you jerked forward away from it.

“Calm down pet,” he whispered darkly. His hands whipped out to hold your wrists in front of you. “For now, accept me next to you.” You shook your head in the dark. “Accept that I will be as close as your shadow.”

“You sick...perverted—!” Your voice growled in the still room. “What the hell—?!”

His hand came up over your mouth. “Calm...calm. Shhhh.” There was a soft laugh like sex wrapped in dark silk. You bucked in his arms. “I knew that I was right. You are like a thoroughbred racehorse—fire and spirit in your every step.” His lips brushed the back of your neck. “If I let you, you would run and fight with your every breath. You would keep going and going, until there was no other choice but to drop. You would fight me. You would fight every constraint, no matter how well intentioned it might be.”

Hanzo smiled as you bucked again. You did not mean it, of course—not yet—but every rock forward and thrust ground your soft body against his. “You would fight with every breath in your body, wouldn’t you?” He lapped at your neck again. “You are full of spirit, full of fire and lightning.” His voice turned soft and sympathetic. “You have fought so long, worked so hard.” Your eyes were moist and you went still as he kissed you again. “You would keep fighting and keep working so hard and never let yourself rest.”

He spoke more softly, so quietly that you leaned back further against him to hear his words. “I will not let you fall or falter, will not let you fail. I will make sure that you rest, you allow yourself to slow so that when it is appropriate, you can fight harder and do more.” 

You paused to listen to him, growing more still. His hand slid from your mouth and went to your hair. Petting your forehead and brushing strands from your face, he smiled in the dark. “I will be next to you, training you. There will not be a moment, an action that I will not be there.

“It will not be easy—for I am not an easy master. I will support you. I will expect you to obey my orders. If you do not, then I will punish you. I will give you fair warning, but I will punish you, and you will remember your punishments.”

You shivered as his fingers threaded through your hair. “W-w-what do you mean?” You glanced around the dark and shadowed room futilely. “W-w-what are you going to d-d-do to me? Are you going to h-h-hurt me?”

His hand drifted from your hair to slid down your neck, your shoulder, your side and went to cup your bottom. “I will not harm you.” His lips brushed your hair. “I would never harm someone who chose me.” Oh the what?! Your mind went dizzy as you tried to process what he was saying. “I would rather die than have you come to harm.

“That is my pledge to you. I will not harm you and will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I will do what I think is best for you. I will give you my best and will expect you to give me your best in return.”

You shivered for a moment and your thoughts mushed together like scrambled eggs. “And if I fail? If I can’t do it? You’ll do what? Beat me?”

He paused for a moment to ponder your whimpering words. “Ahh...you are afraid of failing.” He smiled against your skin. “It is my responsibility to make sure that the tasks I give you are fair and that you can reasonably do them, is it not?” He nuzzled you. “I will be fair—.”

“But you’re going to punish me, aren’t you?” You sniffled, your sleepy mind still stuck on one thing. “You could kill me if you wanted!”

“Shh...I will not harm you. My punishments may sting, but they will not harm you. The punishments are not to make you arbitrarily suffer, but to help instruct you.”

“It’s too much.”

“I know. I know that this is likely the first time that someone has done this.” He nuzzled your shoulder again. “My fine thoroughbred, my fiery racehorse, I will take my time with you. Every journey begins with a step. I would not shortchange you, cheat you, by trying to take shortcuts. There are no shortcuts in such an important thing.

He settled on the bed behind you. “My family had horses in Japan, and the first step was always to get them used to me. To get them used to my presence, my hands and my scent. They would always stand away from me, turn away. Some would try to bite me. One tried to kick me.

“I spent days just walking through the stables, touching the feedboxes and the blankets. They began to accept that I would not hurt them. Finally, they let me stroke them—down their necks and let me touch their noses. I could then groom them, giving them long periods of time when I could learn what they liked best. Sometimes they took months before they gave me the slightest hope. Then, they let me lead them to the pastures, to slide on their saddle and bridles. Every step had to be done carefully, patiently, or else they would only grow scared and shy from me.

“It was weeks—or perhaps even months since I stopped counting the hours—before they began to wish for me. They became impatient to see me because they knew that I would spend time with them and wanted them at their best. Then they would do their best for me. Even the wildest ones would eventually give me their all because they knew I would not beat them and would not harm them—especially not by asking for more than they could give.”

You whined sleepily. His strong heat was making you feel lethargic, making you feel relaxed and his hands were soothing you as they rubbed you gently. For a brief moment, you envied those horses—why did you imagine being a muscular chestnut-colored racehorse waiting for him to groom you?—and you closed your eyes again.

“There you go,” he praised as you shifted slightly to get more comfortable. “Relax. This is the first step—and it will take as long as it takes. There are no shortcuts, no corners cut. I will not harm you by rushing this.”

You nodded shakily. “You...you’re not going to....sleep with.... Sex?”

He laughed softly again. “Of course not—not tonight. I have told you this first step—to get used to me. All you need to do is to get used to me being next to you. Get used to me looking out for you.” Your hands jerked nervously. “There is no need for more right now—just for you to relax and realize that I will not hurt you.”

You waited nervously as time passed and he did nothing more than lay behind you. Finally, you cracked an eye. With a sudden rebellious streak, you stroked his leg and bucked your hips against his groin.

Instantly, his hand was on your wrist. “Do not rush me—or yourself.” You heard the slight frown in his voice and felt the patient sigh. “Do not be rebellious in learning this lesson.” You jerked your hand with a soft sound and he sighed again. “My impatient one, learn the first lesson before rushing to the second.”

Quite deliberately, he pulled your hand to set it on the bed in front of you. “Now, sleep sekkachi. The morning will come soon enough.”


	10. Chapter 10

Hanzo waited as patiently as he knew how, counting the seconds as you fell asleep. He could feel your muscles soothe and soften. Your breaths were deep and even now, your lids fluttering closed. He stroked your hair, listening to you breathe in the darkness.

You did not trust him—not completely. You fought him, questioned him, asked so much from him. You would not give him an inch that he did not deserve, did not earn. He had to question himself and examine his motives. It made him stronger, better—a better team leader and a better agent.

He accepted the uncertainty in you for now. You were smart. You were wild, tempestuous, but you seemed to be willing to try. It was enough for now.

He told himself it was enough—it had to be enough. But the blood in his veins was not convinced, his hard cock was not convinced and his rushing pulse was not convinced. He had not stopped thinking of this—of having you close since he had first heard you talking about waiting for him.


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning, you were awakened to warmth and a peculiar feeling of security. You were drifting in and out of a dream of horses. It was a strangely random dream, because you were shifting perspective between being a horse and being a person in the wide, wild fields. A familiar, snow covered mountain was in the distance, but right around you was thick, dark green grass like a carpet. Even the black soil—moist and dark and thick—felt warm and yielding. Another horse whinnied and you looked around to see the dark figure of a muscular man walking through the grass with a rope over his shoulder. You knew—every other horse did too—that the man had a bag of ripe apples as red as blood over his shoulder as well.

You were turning, the sunlight warm on your skin, to run to the man and get your apple first, when your alarm clock went off. Sighing, you reached out to turn it off. It was almost painful to get up when you were so warm, so wrapped completely in comfort.

The archer sat up himself, rubbing his eyes and stretching. You were riveted to watching the sunlight drifting over him. He was still fully dressed in his dark clothes, his even darker hair drifting over his shoulders. You were distantly surprised that there was nothing lewd or threatening about him now. He seemed actually...cuddly.

“We will have about ten minutes before we need to get breakfast.” His voice was furred and gritty. “I will go get cleaned up myself.” He rubbed his stubbled cheeks. “I will expect to see you for breakfast before we begin training.”

You swallowed heavily. “O-o-okay.”

It took you fifteen minutes. You rushed but right now you were all thumbs and even your normal routine was hard to accomplish. You appeared in the cafeteria to grab some water and whatever was fastest—and he was already sitting with his green tea and a fresh baked scone. He was still in his corner, watching the whole room as you plopped down and wolfed down your meal.

Training was no less intense. It was not your imagination, he really was grinding you through hard training. He gave you no favoritism, no quarter, as he put you all through the exercises and paces. You thought that it was just sadism, but he did every pushup, every sit-up, every chin up just like the rest of the team. In fact, he did more because he lingered after he dismissed everyone else. He used more weights when everyone else was gone as well.

As usual, he asked you to stay late. It amazed you to watch him. He single-mindedly started with the weights and worked his way from top to bottom. Shoulders, traps and arms and then abs and on down. There seemed to be an endless series of movements—weighted and unweighted—that he used to stay in his excellent shape. It kept drawing your eyes, making your stomach clench deliciously, as he moved between exercises. On very rare occasions, you tried to keep up with his punishing pace. He would pause, show you how to do the moves and offer you modifications—lesser weights or slightly easier moves or a slower pace—and then lead you through the exercise.

You expected him to pounce on you, but instead, he simply went through his exercises with heavy weights. You weren’t even required to go through all the exercises—only those you wanted to try—and to clean up with him. You thought that maybe he was pleased when you joined him, but he was so focused and silent, it was hard to tell.

You were wiping down the last weight bench and Hanzo was in the back, putting up the spare weight gloves. All the teams rotated using the room—everyone knew that—but you really hadn’t paid attention to which team was coming in.

“Hey gorgeous!” Genji called from the doorway behind you. “Are you going to be out soon?”

You yelped and dropped the cloth as you whirled to face him. “What? What are you doing in here?”

The cybernetic ninja cocked his metal covered head. “Uhh...yeah. We are the next team. It’s on the schedule.”

You looked with shock as he pointed to the paper sheet on the wall and tried to ignore the curious agents peering around the tall man. “Oh...well. We are just cleaning up.”

Hanzo came out with a scowl. “We are finished, otouto.” He walked over to stand in front of Genji. “There is no need to harass my agent.”

You flushed slightly. Hanzo was dead serious, his arms crossing over his sweaty chest. Genji was pulling back proudly as well, his hands in fists and crossing his arms as well. “There is no reason to be rude, anija.”

“Then do not be.” Hanzo snorted softly, giving you a quick glance over his shoulder. “We were just leaving, so stand aside and we will be gone.”

The ninja looked between the two of you and stood aside. The agents looked at you both as Hanzo escorted you through the hallway. As soon as you were alone in the hallway, he glanced down at you thoughtfully. “I must apologize for that.” He puffed out a breath and seemed to glance aside. “My younger brother has always had difficulty in accepting limits or boundaries.” He shook his head sadly. “It may take him some time to understand. He has never liked the word ‘no’.”

You nodded slowly. Even without touching you, you were absolutely aware of him. You knew the pace of his steps, the soothing sound of his even breathing. Despite his legendary, fearsome scowl, there was a restfulness to him as you walked together.

He followed you to your apartment. The archer paused to look around the doorway and rooms as though he expected to have ninjas and terrorists to be lurking there, waiting for you. You shivered, wondering if he planned to waltz on in, but instead, he stood in the doorway.

He looked down at you with his thumbs hooked into the waist of his pants. “What do you wish to do this evening?”

You gaped at him. “What?”

“I will give you a few hours of privacy, if you wish it.” His mouth curled into a half smirk. “I am aware that I am sweaty and that you are likely exhausted. Perhaps you would prefer to shower?”

You nodded a bit dizzily. A shower sounded really awesome. A chance to get cleaned up and in some clothes that were not coated in sweat sounded heavenly. “Yeah...a shower.”

He nodded regally. “As you wish. I will get cleaned up as well and I will meet you back here in about an hour so that I can take you to the cafeteria for dinner.”

“Take me?” You didn’t know whether to pull back from his assumption that he was taking you to dinner or to be disappointed that it was only to the base cafeteria. “To dinner?”

He nodded again, plucking at his beard. With a slight shrug, he said, “How else am I to be sure that you eat well?”

You scowled and snorted, “Isn’t that a little extreme?”

He shook his head. “I will see you in about an hour.” His eyes were warm, even if his expression was still solemn, as he turned to walk away. “Just in time for dinner.”

You simmered as he walked down the hallway without you. You had no idea if his high-handed “I want to see you eat” idea made you more or less angry than his silent departure, but both irritated you no end. The bastard really was taking this too far. You stomped around your apartment, slammed the door and started your shower. The irritating man wasn’t far from your thoughts as you washed off the sweat and grime, and as soon as he showed up for dinner, you were going to bash his head in. Figuratively, at least. You had thought Genji was bad at hearing the word “no”—but the cyborg had nothing on Hanzo!

You were in clean clothes and just drying your hair on the towel when you heard the knock at the door. Well, he could just freaking forget you leaping up to let him in. He could just wait until you were done and if he thought—!

The doorknob rattled a bit and there was a soft scraping. Before your eyes, the little tab in the knob turned and then the knob turned. Silently, the door swung open to reveal the archer with several pieces of wire in his fingers and a satisfied smirk on his face. He wore a traditional outfit—neatly pleated, black hakama pants, a long-sleeved navy yukata with a gray wagon wheel pattern on the edges of the sleeves and some of the curious split-toed socks with sandals. He tucked the pieces of wire into a small pouch that he tucked into a fold of the yukata, before smoothing down the long sleeved garment over the hakama. His hair was shiny and flowed smoothly down between his shoulders.

“What the hell—?!” you bellowed at him.

He looked at you closely, stepping inside. “I was wondering if you had perhaps fallen or had...had forgotten,” he shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I came inside to check.”

“That’s absolutely no reason to...to...to just break in! You can’t just pick a lock whenever you feel like it!”

He shrugged again. “I will not risk your well being for ridiculously prudish mores.” 

You cursed and tossed the towel aside. “Fine....” You pulled on some shoes grumpily. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Get this over with?” His aristocratic nose crinkled. “Is dinner something terrible again tonight?”

You sighed. He was going to be unreasonable, wasn’t he? Figured. “Let’s just go.”

At the cafeteria, he carefully herded you through the line. He picked up two small plates of steamed broccoli and some carrots with the not-too-bad hummus. He was carefully next to you and seemed to study the little signs of nutrition information over the main courses—pieces of Mediterranean chicken that were grilled with herbs and capers and grilled teriyaki salmon—very carefully.

You puffed out an impatient breath. “Really? It’s a choice between chicken and fish!”

He looked at you. “The teriyaki salmon perhaps has too much sugar.” He picked up two pieces of the chicken before whispering in your ear. “We might be better served cooking ourselves.” He pointed further down the line. “I would also like us to avoid the desserts. I have better treats at my apartment, if you would favor them.”

You blinked in surprise. This was entirely too deep and things were going into such a strange directions. Nodding and following him seemed to be the best thing while you figured it all out. He carried both trays and herded you down past the rest of the gaping agents to sit in his usual corner with him.

Hanzo glanced around silently as he sat down. You sat down next to him, watching as he divided up the plates between you. Finally, he nodded and picked up his fork and you couldn’t wait another minute to speak. “So...this is all part of your plan?!”

He smiled stiffly. “It is part of my plan to keep you healthy.” He poked his fork at the chicken. “It is part of my plan to be sure that you are the best you can be.”

Thank goodness you had the carrots to munch on, otherwise you would have socked him in the face. You speared all of the broccoli and some chicken as you looked up at him crossly. “So, we’ve done dinner.”

“Done?” His eyebrows raised questioningly as he sat down the fork. “I agree that the chicken is not best, but you can hardly call what you’ve eaten a meal—.”

You growled and pushed the little plates aside. “I’m done,” you spat in irritation. The dinner hadn’t been entirely appetizing to begin with and now your temper was simply ruining it for you. “I’m going to leave.”

Hanzo sighed and nodded. “I will take you outside. Perhaps that will soothe your temper.” He set down his fork and rose. “Come with me.”

You stalked down the hallways with him, your cheeks burning as the other agents stared at the two of you. No one got in your way, though, because as soon as they crossed your path, the scowling archer would be behind you and they would retreat. His hand was at your back, grazing you gently only occasionally as you needed to turn where he wanted.

The archer opened the final door and you stepped out into the crisp evening air. You frowned as you glanced around the darkened area. You hadn’t been in this area of the base before and the dim moonlight could not tell you where you were. You could see the pebbled path that your feet were on, but as Hanzo closed the door behind you, even that faded.

You growled a little as you heard his heavy footsteps behind you. “Where are we?”

“Impatient even now?” he chuckled dryly. 

You heard him shuffle behind you and then a heavy, metallic clap before the lights turned on. You were in a lushly planted garden with a graceful path of small, pale pebbles that curved around a large circular labyrinth path with a small fountain in the middle. Small floodlights were scattered across the garden, providing intimate uplighting in small clumps of flowering trees and against the rough walls. A tiny square gazebo was in the far corner. Small benches of bamboo wood were placed under a few of the trees or around the labyrinth.

You were blown away at the intimate lighting, the almost sacred hush in the air, the fresh and green smells of the trees and plants. Softly, you asked, “Where are we?”

Hanzo’s voice dropped similarly. “This is one of the original meditation gardens.” His eyes swept the shadowy space. “When Genji and Zenyatta began working more with the Omnics, they built a larger and more elaborate garden elsewhere.” He shrugged slightly. “Everyone goes to the other garden now—particularly since it has WiFi.”

You nodded slightly, looking at the night-lit garden. Slowly, you began walking the path with the archer following you silently. Soft crickets and high pitched peeps from baby frogs filled the air. There was a quiet fluttering in the air and you looked up to see a dark shape zigzagging overhead.

Hanzo came to stand almost beside you, looking up. You heard the soft smile in his voice as he whispered, “Bats. They look to be hungry.” He glanced around at the lights. “We must have disturbed the night insects when we turned on the lights.”

He nudged you slightly as he picked up a small pebble. You watched as he tossed it high in the air. The fluttering bat turned sharply, diving to go see what was crossing its path. You giggled as it pulled up short and zipped back up, seeming to only barely miss another bat on the wing. You sputtered and laughed as the bats wheeled around before vanishing into the darkness.

The man beside you gasped softly and stared at you. You stopped watching the dizzy spirals of the hunting animals to look at him in return. You could almost see him in the dimly lit garden. His eyes were dark and wide as he looked at you, his lips slightly parted.

He stared at you with the slightly shocked look on his face. Coughing uncomfortably, he glanced away for a moment before looking down at you. “You....” He glanced away again uncomfortably. “I have...never heard you laugh so before.”

You squirmed a little, suddenly staring at your feet. “I....” 

Your voice faded before you said anything else as you looked away. He sighed heavily and looked at the flickering fountain. “And...now I’ve ruined it.”

There was an uncomfortable pause as you both refused to look at each other. At last, he coughed roughly again and you felt the soft pressure of his fingertips at your waist. Without another word, he gently led you down the path as it curved.

The labyrinth was a circular affair in the center of the garden. The narrow path was smoothly paved with flat, smooth stones and it folded neatly back up and down. Hanzo looked at it solemnly and whispered, “It is a peaceful meditation, to walk the labyrinth. Would you like to try it?”

You nodded and started to walk. The path went almost directly to the center at four places, then it curved and went into wider and wider semicircles before teasing with another almost direct path. Hanzo watched you, staring as you completed the first quadrant, before starting walking himself.

You walked slowly, occasionally stopping to stare at the flitting bats. The archer would stop when you did, only to watch you. It was soothing to just walk the simple and smooth path and release the thoughts of the day. At the center, you stopped to stare at the fountain. To your surprise, it was actually a deep one with a bowl about five feet wide that was tiled in navy. The spray was a fine, thin shoot upward that barely made a ripple in the water. Two large, thick fish swam lazily—a dark one that looked almost black with a smudge of ivory white on its head and an iridescent ivory one with rough patches of brilliant orange-red on it. They turned slightly and approached your feet with their wide mouths opening eagerly.

Hanzo slid closer to you and watched them thoughtfully. He fiddled with something that was tied on his obi and pulled out a small oval carving of two fish circling each other. Untying it, he showed it to you. You looked at it curiously, marveling at the detailed carving of each scale.

“It is a netsuke,” he whispered softly. Turning it in his hand, he showed you the carving one more time and then with a slide of his thumb, he slide the top open to reveal tiny pellets. Glancing at your curious expression, he added, “Have you never seen one?”

You shook your head slowly as he dug his fingers inside the box to pull out some of the pellets. Dumping them into your palm, he gestured towards the fish. You stepped forward to the water, watching as he spread a few above the fish. They turned eagerly to swallow the tiny pellets. You smiled as you dropped your pellets and they abandoned him to come gulping at your feet.

You knelt, marveling that the fish were so close you could practically stroke their scales. Throwing the last pellet in, you smiled as they fought over it, only to rush to the archer as he tossed in a few more pellets.

The two fish swept in lazy circles back and forth, somehow seeming to keep an eye on both of you in case one or the other dropped some more food. You smiled at them, watching them lazily swim around. It was soothing, surprisingly so, to kneel by the fish pond and just watch them slowly drift by in the navy tiled pool.

The dark one dipped underneath the red and white one to get closer to you. It opened its mouth wide, a thumb sized hole in the water, and seemed to be all but jumping to reach you. “I’m sorry little one,” you whispered to it. “I don’t have any more.” The fish let out a burping blurb and with a graceful flick of his tail, swam off. You sighed at his aquatic disgust. “I’ll bring some more next time.”

Glancing at Hanzo, you saw him solemnly watching the fish with the fountain’s lights flickering across his face. He was so still that he seemed to be carved from stone, a statue staring at the fountain thoughtfully. Nothing about his features gave anything away as to his thoughts or plans, only that he was watching the fountain.

Hanzo flushed slightly, trying to remain impassive and still as you studied him in the rippling light. He was right to bring you here, to share his almost private haven. No matter how unwillingly you might have come, you had laughed at the bats and marveled at the koi he had painstakingly nurtured in the pond. He watched as the two giant fish resumed their thoughtful swimming, circling the fountain side by side, trying shake the soft thrill as you kept glancing his way.

He flattered himself that you liked what you saw even if you kept your gaze mostly modestly on his face. It made his body feel hot and hard to think of you looking at him. The thought of you admiring him drove every thought out of his mind. Hearing you laugh like that—such a free and musical sound—was enough to make his cock ache. He had never heard such a carefree and happy sound and his gaze was riveted to the softness of your lips now as he tried to figure out some way to hear it again.

He measured the time by the laps of the koi. Genji had come here exactly once with him and, instead of going through their meditations, had precisely timed their swimming. After a half hour, he could spit out all sorts of statistics on how long it took them to go around, how many times they had completed the circle, the surface water temperature, the mean nautical speed.... He had been highly irritated with his younger brother’s inability to settle and meditate peacefully in the Shimada style—but it had been briefly interesting to note that it took approximately 83 seconds for them to go around one time. 

After fifteen laps, he estimated that you both had been here for about twenty minutes. He bowed his head briefly and stood. You scrambled up to stand as well, looking up at him with curiosity. He slowly offered his hand and led you out of the labyrinth and back to the pebbled path.

“Are you feeling hungry?” he asked gruffly, turning away from the lights of the fountain. You shook your head, glancing back over your shoulder with just a wistful note of longing. “If not, then we will go back to quarters.”

As soon as he shut off the lights and led you back inside, he was suddenly distant and silent. The corridors were mostly empty—aside from McCree as he ambled along with a blonde analyst—and you were quickly herded back to your apartment. You looked up at him in confusion as he took your keycard and unlocked your door for you.

“Is...is something wrong?” you asked, watching him glance around your apartment cautiously.

“No,” he grunted too quickly. “It is safe to go inside.”

You cocked your head to look at him. It was entirely accidental that your voice was a hair more breathless than you meant for it to be. “Are you coming in, too?”

He looked at you, nodding. “Unless you would care to come to my apartment?”

That brought a blush to your cheeks. “Ahh...no.” You slipped inside and grabbed hold of the door. “Good night.”

You tried to shut it before he could react, but he was too fast and his hand and foot jammed the door. He was scowling now and shoved the door open to step inside. “I have told you that I will be next to you.” He made a frustrated sound and gestured angrily. “And you have the impertinence to do that? I should paddle you.” You frowned at him in return as he scowled and gestured towards his kimono. “I did not wish to embarrass you or rush you when I removed my clothing to hang them up.”

Your whole face flamed. Squirming, you shot back, “You could have just told me.”

He scowled, staring at you. “Do you think that you can control yourself long enough for me to get a pair of sweatpants?”

“And if I said ‘no’?”

He folded his arms over his chest. “I would praise you for your honesty and thank you for your trust in being so honest. Then I would bring you to my apartment long enough to grab what I could and we would return here to sleep.”

“Just sleep?” you asked suspiciously.

“Yes. Just to sleep.” He snorted. “Just like last night. And most likely like tomorrow night.”

You sighed in frustration. “And I suppose that you would just pick the lock if I locked the door behind you?” He nodded slowly, his eyes cool. “Fine. I’ll just get changed here.” You paused. “And I’ll leave the door unlocked if you want.”

He smirked wryly. “You are an interesting puzzle. On the one hand, I will not leave you defenseless with your door unlocked. On the other hand, I would prefer that you trust me.” He let out an impatient sound. “So I will ask you one more time to please control yourself.”

You glared at him and nodded shortly. “I suppose that I have no choice, do I?” He shook his head. “Fine. I’m going to get a shower and get changed for bed.”

He slipped out without a sound as you stalked to your shower. You were in a pair of ratty pajamas and towel drying your hair again when you heard him open the door and come in. Behind you, you heard him lock the door and test the knob with a rattle.

He did not pounce on you, though. Instead he seemed to linger patiently as you tossed the towel in the hamper. He did not seem to move as you turned off the lights before pottering around and you studiously tried to avoid looking at him. Unfortunately, the list of things that you normally did was short and easily accomplished.

“Would you care for a cup of tea before bedtime?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.

You were finally forced to look at him. He held a small black duffle in one hand and leaned against the wall in his casually loose sweatpants and the achingly tight t-shirt that stretched over his chest and his hair so long that it drifted darkly between his shoulders. His face was still stern, but...there was something else.

“W-what?”

“Tea,” he repeated. “Hot tea. Before bedtime.” He lifted the duffle bag slightly. “I...I brought a few things.” He shrugged a little and nodded when you said nothing. “Perhaps another time.”

He walked over to your closet and opened the door before setting the bag carefully in a corner on the floor. Carefully, he closed the door and came up to you, his arms open and spread slightly. “Shall we go to bed?”

You nodded slowly, turning towards the bedroom. It seemed an aching and hot thing, to wrestle with yourself as you walked to bed. The hot cup of tea might have delayed this bedtime and the inevitable night ahead. But he was set on this path and inexorably herded you towards the bed.

He reached beyond you to pull the sheets and blanket down. “Sleep will help, shojo,” he murmured reassuringly. “Things will be more clear tomorrow.”

His hands were strong as they carefully laid you down. In way that you hadn’t felt since you were a child, he tucked you in with the blankets around you. It was soothing, quieting, and your mind swam with images of slowly swimming fish and restive horses in a green field. He slid into bed behind you, his body warm and strong.

You were both silent for a long time, staring at nothing and with your thoughts wrapped around you both. You slid from being annoyed at the man’s arrogance and angry at the way that you had been drug into his life to thinking about slowly circling koi with their gaping mouths and horses running to get the first red apples. All through the easy images there was a darkly shadowed figure of a muscular man, patiently waiting and watching with his face looking earnest and thoughtful and eager as he watched you.

You were all but asleep when you felt the first brush of his fingers across your hair. “What am I to do with you? How do I protect you when you fight me so?” he softly whispered. You shuddered a little, a tingle going up your spine. His hand was gentle, tracing your outline in the air. “What should I do for my fiery thoroughbred to show how I feel?”

You let out a soft sound. The gentle touch ghosted across your skin and neck and made your skin shiver at his touch. Instantly his hand stilled, pulling back behind you. You felt suddenly a bit lonely, cooled by his instant withdrawal.

His solemn voice whispered in the darkness. “I apologize. I had thought you were asleep.”

“But—.”

“But nothing,” he countered. “It...is late. We should sleep.”

You were going to say something when he slid closer to you. His arm slowly went around your shoulders to squeeze gently and he nuzzled your neck. “Sleep.”

And there was nothing else that entire night.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning Hanzo took you to breakfast. Everyone stared—again—as you both took your trays to a table. You sighed heavily and sulked as he set the bowls of fresh fruit and oatmeal in front of you.

“Can I get some orange juice?” you pouted.

He glanced up at your strangely and then seemed to shake himself. “Of course,” he nodded. “But as long as you get the real juice.” He snorted and smirked. “That blended juice drink stuff is abominable and not good for you.”

“Not good for me?”

He nodded with a casual shrug. “I read the ingredients. It is loaded with sugar and colorings and—.” His face screwed up in disgust. “It is not at all what I want for you.”

You nodded slightly and got up. Stalking over to the lit up cooler of juice bottles, you did pick up the juice blend to read the ingredients. He was not wrong—there were several artificial colors and flavorings, a strange sounding preservative, and a load of sugar. Three types were listed on the label—sucrose, high-fructose corn syrup, and evaporated cane juice. The fruits on the label were actually from concentrate and about fifth or sixth down on the list of ingredients. Your nose wrinkled as well as you put the plastic bottle back to pick up the pure orange juice.

Walking back, you glanced at a table of fellow agents. They looked at you curiously and you nodded slightly. They stared and you saw one of their heads lower and heard a tittering whisper. Then others turned back and began whispering as well. There was a harsh chorus of sounds as they stared between you and him nervously.

You slid back into your seat, grabbing the bottle and twisting it open with a yank. You cursed, glaring at them as they laughed again. Hanzo sighed patiently and set down his spoon. “It will pass,” he said softly, stirring the oatmeal restlessly and eating it without any apparent enjoyment. “They will soon find someone else to stare at and talk about.”

You growled as you gulped down the juice. “When?”

“Soon,” he whispered. He gingerly nudged the bowl until you took a few bites of oatmeal. “We are odd now. As soon as someone else does something else, then they will stop talking about us.” You nodded mutely and fiddled with the oatmeal, opting to eat several chunks of fruit. Hanzo took a deep breath and added thoughtfully, “I suppose that we can foil them by having Genji come through with a new girl? I’m sure that we could arrange it.”

You took a few more bites of fruit, your cheeks flaming as the whispers seemed to spread from table to table. “Can we just get out of here?”

“Of course,” he nodded. He paused to look at you thoughtfully. “If you are distressed, then we can start having breakfast in the apartment.” He affected a shrug. “Either one of ours—just some boiled eggs and toast or oatmeal. Perhaps a chia seed pudding occasionally.”

“Let’s just go,” you muttered. “I’m not hungry anyway.”

You both stalked out and began the day. Training was grueling and he was as unforgiving as ever. You were aching as he finally dismissed everyone. Growling at the world in general, you both cleaned up in silence. It barely captured your notice that you had stayed late with him even without him asking.

“Would you like to train some more?” Hanzo asked finally, kneeling on the swept up mats. “I could show you some more moves....”

You scowled at him. “I’m too tired.” You puffed out a breath and glared at him. “How can you even talk like that?”

He blinked in surprise. “Is there something wrong with the way that I speak?”

You hissed in frustration, remembering that Japanese was his first language. “No. It’s a figure of speech.” You flicked your fingers through your hair angrily. “How can you have energy to do anything else?”

He looked at you solemnly. “It will.... You will improve as long as you keep working at it.” He offered you a small smile. “It is not easy, but I am committed to making sure that you will get better.”

“Better?” You let out a soft whine, “How long will that take?”

“As long as it takes,” the archer replied. “But I would not be a good master to you if I did not ensure that you will get there.”

You rolled your eyes in frustration and turned to leave. “That again? It’s never going to happen.”

You never saw him move. Suddenly, you hit the mat and stared up at the ceiling. The wind whooshed out of your lungs painfully. With a moan, you twisted slowly. Hanzo leapt on top of you. His hands came to your shoulders and he leaned his muscular body over yours. You gasped in a painful breath as his hands grabbed your wrists and held them down beside your head.

“Do you doubt me?” he purred in a soft tone.

You whimpered, arching your back as he slotted himself between your legs. His eyes seemed darker and warmer and focused on your face. His hips dipped suggestively, hot and hard beneath the taut fabric. That made you gasp as you looked at his hard expression. His eyes flared open and he growled as he ground against you again.

“You are mine,” he hissed with fire in his eyes. “I am your master and you will acknowledge that.” You whined softly with an aching desperation that you did not want to admit. “I will train you and guide you, ensure your success—and you will be mine.”

“No...,” you whispered in half-hearted protest. He nuzzled your neck and your traitorous body lit up. Your eyes flickered shut as you arched your back again. “No.”

“Yes,” he insisted. “Yes...you will. And you will acknowledge me as your master.”

He leaned down further, letting you feel a fraction of his heavy weight as you shook your head again. “My impatient beauty. Are you so desperate for me to prove it to you?”

You opened your mouth to say something, but there was a tittering and uncomfortable coughing from the doorway. You both turned to look at Genji as the ninja herded his team out. Hanzo growled low in his throat as his head whipped around to face the other team, and you felt his hands around your wrists tighten. He pulled you up as he stood.

Staring balefully at the doorway, he whispered to you, “This is not the time nor the place.” You shook in his grasp, unable to look at him or them. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper in your ear. “But there will be another chance.”

You both walked out without looking at the other team. You were cursing in your head—no wonder people were talking about you. And Genji was as much of a gossip as he was a playboy as long as it was gossip about someone else. Flushing and feeling angry and restless, you stalked out with the archer almost directly behind you.

Without a clear direction, you went to the meditation garden. The fish swam lazily around and ignored you as you plopped down beside the fountain. Hanzo came to kneel beside you. Tears were in your eyes as you stared at the twisting fish, hoping that no one saw you.

“I...apologize,” Hanzo breathed softly. “I did not mean for that to happen.”

You cringed and felt tears run down your face. “Everyone is talking about us, aren’t they?” Sniffling, you pressed your fingers to your flaming cheeks. “Everyone is laughing at me.” Glaring, you accused, “And it’s your fault.”

He grimaced and looked away. “It is.... It is my fault.” He sighed and his whole face turned red. “You deserve better.”

Crying openly now, you looked at him. You growled, “Is this how you ensure my success?” He pulled back in shock, all of the color draining from his face. “Is this how you—?”

He was already up, walking away. His head was between his shoulders and he didn’t look back as he stumbled away.

You had a good cry, mumbling to the circling koi all of your frustrations. They didn’t pay you any attention at all, simply circling and circling. But no one else was around to stare and whisper and laugh at you as you poured out all of your cursing and grumbling.

It felt good, to unload all of the conflict and pain. Finally, you were cried out and exhausted. Except, you couldn’t sleep—couldn’t even contemplate taking a nap or going back to eat dinner in the cafeteria. So, you went inside to grab your wallet.

Riding with another group of agents to the closest town, you went first to a pet store. The elderly man who looked like a tall, old gnome with wire-rim glasses smiled in a friendly way towards you.

“What can I do for you?” he asked in a friendly and quivering voice.

“I’d like some koi food, please.”

“Oh?” He smiled in a kindly way. “Do you know what kind you want?”

You shook yourself. What did you know about koi anyway? Next to nothing except that you’d bet that they didn’t eat goldfish flakes. “Uhh...pellets?”

He grinned at you. “I’ll get you two boxes. One for warm weather and one for cooler weather.” He cocked a grin at you. “How many fish you have?”

“Uhh...two.” You flushed. “Just the two.”

He smiled at you and reached under the counter. “Well...I don’t usually stock this. There’s not a lot of call around here for high-quality koi food. But there’s a fella that comes in...oh, twice or three times a month to get new filters and food and fish treats and to talk about his fish.”

“Oh, well, if these are someone else’s—.”

“No.... Not at all. He’s just a friend who comes in.” The elderly man smirked. “He has been coming in for over a year. I think sometimes that he comes in to just talk, but he insists that he needs something every time.” He began scanning the boxes of pellets. “I’ll order two new boxes so that when he comes back in, he’ll have them.” The gnome adjusted his glasses to peer at the boxes again. “But I’d sure love to see his pond. He said that it was narrow—like about five feet wide, and that it was about four feet deep—but he insisted that he only wanted two fish.”

The man took your credit card and put the boxes into a small bag. “Do you want me to pass on your name? He seems to be a nice enough guy, and I know that he’d like talking to another koi enthusiast.”

“No...no thank you,” you blushed. “Just...just want the food.”

“Well, it was a pleasure to meet you.” He beamed at you. “And send me pictures of the lovelies.” He waved to the wall behind the cash register. A huge bulletin board had pictures of pets of all kinds—large dogs, various hermit crabs with slickly painted shells, small cats, a bearded dragon lizard on a bright red heat rock, fish, two crabs, a horse, tons of colorful birds and everything in between. “I like to post pictures of the pets of my customers.” He grinned as he gestured towards the pictures. “Makes me feel a bit like I’m part of the family.”

You smiled stiffly and thanked him before ducking out. Walking further down the block, you splurged on some awesome take-away—fried dumplings, panko fried mushrooms with a sweet soy sauce, spicy Hunan chicken, egg rolls with fresh hot mustard, and five-spice roasted cauliflower. You loved this place—even with its cheesy and fake-flash plastic dragons and waving cats and red bells above the door—because the people were friendly and the food was fresh cooked by the owner’s white haired mother, his wife and his brother. There was even a special today for their “Happy Dessert”—a selection of panko fried banana slices, pineapple chunks, and apple slices with an aromatic sprinkling of powdered sugar and spices.

You called your ride and told them that you were heading back. They gave you some good natured ribbing—they had expected to stay out longer. Grabbing a taxi, you slunk back to your apartment. Your hands were achingly tight around the various bags and you pointedly ignored the tittering and whispers that you were sure was surrounding you. You shook off the feeling of being watched as you threaded through the buildings towards your apartment.

You had barely put down all the bags before you heard the soft chime of the doorbell. Stalking to the door, you snapped it open. The archer stood there, looking down at a message on his phone with a frown before he looked up guiltily at you. “Could I please come in?”

You scowled at him and made him wait a moment before nodding. At least he didn’t pick the lock this time.... Stepping aside so that he could enter, you closed the door behind him. Without another word, you both went to the sitting area. He took a seat gratefully, and you thought you saw him take a deep breath of the steamy scents coming from the bags.

It was an uncomfortable moment before he said softly, “I wish to apologize.” He shrugged. “I should not have embarrassed you by my actions in front of the other team.” He grimaced, his hands fisting slightly. “Particularly not in front of my brother’s team.”

You nodded slightly and groaned, your cheeks flaming red. “It’s...it’s over and done with.”

“I pledge to you that it will the last time,” he whispered in a solemn tone that made you shiver. “It will never happen again.”

You nodded again. Taking a deep breath and really wishing you were stuffing yourself with hot and salty and umami tastes, you looked longingly at the bags. “We won’t let it happen again.” You shrugged shyly. “I’ll start leaving with the rest of the team.”

“Of course, we should protect you,” he nodded. He looked wistfully at you before staring down at the table. “Perhaps, we will do that.”

You grunted. “Okay.” His gaze seemed fixed on the bags, but he didn’t seem to be looking at them. “Look.... Let’s just get through this.” Opening the bags, you pulled out the pile of white cardboard boxes. You tossed a second pair of disposable chopsticks towards him and gestured towards the boxes. “It won’t happen again. Least said, soonest mended.”

“That is something that McCree would say,” he whispered solemnly.

“Let’s just eat.”

You opened up the boxes and set them in a rough grouping on the table. You both picked at the food—occasionally picking up and eating something as the silence seemed to crush you both. He rose after a moment and dug his bag out from your closet, bringing out a golden tinted tin of fragrant green tea leaves and two tea balls. He stuffed the metal balls—which looked like small-ish eggs with pinprick holes in them—with the leaves and dropped the balls into mugs of hot water before wrapping the thin chain around the handle of the mugs.

“Here,” he said gruffly, handing you a cup.

You took the mug and watched as he sat down across from you again. The little metal ball seemed to be exuding thin streams of pale green that vanished when you gently jostled the mug. The building fragrance was light and indescribably sweet as you breathed in the scent. It was a joy to taste—fresh and crisp and refreshing in a way that you hadn’t thought that a bright green drink could be.

You glanced up over the rim of your mug and saw him watching you with an uncertain half smile on his face. He flushed and glanced down at his own mug before setting it down on the table. Bending back over the food, he picked up another fried mushroom and popped it in his mouth.

“This is really good,” you whispered.

He grunted softly and nodded. After another stifling moment, he replied, “It is one of my favorite Japanese varieties. I usually have to go make a special request to get it.” He shrugged. “I have...I make several different mixes, using this tea as a base. One with ginger and mint for refreshing the mouth and stomach maladies. One with guarana for energy. One decaffeinated variety with valerian and chamomile to help sleep.” He shrugged and gave you a small grin. “I experimented for a while with a mix with maca root, ginseng, and catuaba, but it tasted terrible.”

You laughed a little at that. “What was that one for?”

Before he could answer, your phone rang. Glancing at the message that flashed on the screen, you cursed. “We have to report to the commander’s office. Now.”

He cursed as the same message appeared on his phone as well. He snatched up a paper napkin and wiped his face. You were a little amused as he carefully wiped his mustache. He efficiently boxed up the leftovers and you both stuffed them in your mini fridge before walking with him in silence to the commander’s office.

You were both barely settled in your chairs before the commander pulled out a pile of papers. “Agents. I believe that you know why I called you both here?” He frowned at you both over the pile of papers.

Hanzo frowned and shot you a glance. His face went impassive, which made you distantly glad that you weren’t playing poker against him.

The commander cleared his throat. “Members of the Gamma Team have registered complaints about your behavior. It seems that you have exhibited inappropriate and...explicit behavior in the training room.” He shuffled some papers and frowned, pointedly making eye contact with both of you. “Now I did not question the...rather sudden unit transfer. I similarly did not question the relationship between you two.

“But, we do not countenance...liaisons in common areas.” The commander scowled. “We also do not countenance such relationships when they become problems for the team as a whole.”

He looked at you. “It is not normal procedure for Overwatch to police relationships, but we do need to investigate this. Are you in a relationship with your supervisor?”

You nervously glanced at Hanzo and then at the stern faced commander. Hanzo gave away nothing. There was not the slightest twitch and you got the distinct feeling that gambling with this man was a one-way trip to a deep and dangerous pit that anyone with an ounce of sense would avoid.

You were going to answer, a shake of the head or something. Instead, Hanzo snapped, “This is entirely my responsibility.”

“Agent Shimada,” the commander frowned, pulling out a thick wad of papers. Even from your seat, you could see Hanzo’s picture and name, along with several red warning headings and brilliant yellow highlights. “You are something of a wild card in this investigation. Quite frankly, your...unsavory reputation precedes you.

“I was opposed to your joining Overwatch from the start.” The commander scowled at the man beside you. “There has always been some concern that your...former career choices could impact the missions here. I never approved of your involvement, especially given your obvious friction and history with the...other Agent Shimada.

“Up until now, your performance has been exemplary while on mission. Your team has performed well and the missions have been accomplished successfully.” Hanzo nodded stiffly. “However, this is a very serious complaint that cannot be ignored. At the very least, it is grossly inappropriate behavior. At the other end, it is sexual harassment. So this can range from a written warning to disbarment and discharge from Overwatch.”

Hanzo nodded regally. “It remains my responsibility.”

The commander turned back to you. “So, tell me. Which is this? Is this merely...inappropriate behavior or is it more serious?”

Your mouth went dry. The archer didn’t turn an inch. “It...was fully consensual. I...I apologize for the inappropriate stuff.” You took a deep breath. “Don’t blame him—we...we were both distracted.” Hanzo turned towards you, but you couldn’t quite read his eyes. Your face flamed. “It will not happen again.”

The commander didn’t seem to buy it. “I see. So what you are saying is that this is merely a consensual matter of inappropriate conduct?” You nodded slowly, your cheeks flaming. “Then I am required to record this as a matter of inappropriate conduct—for both of you.” 

The commander scowled at the two of you and you squirmed a bit as you turned even more red. He sighed. “I will tell both of you to keep it behind closed doors. We do not encourage supervisor-subordinate relationships for obvious reasons, but as long as it does not impact your assigned missions or your team, then we will consider that the matter is closed with written warnings in both your files.”

You both nodded slowly. The commander frowned even more and stared at the archer. “However, another incident of any kind and I will personally end your career at Overwatch.” Both men’s eyes were glacially cold. “And without Overwatch providing you immunity, then....” He shrugged eloquently and raised the papers of Hanzo’s profile pointedly. “I will be keeping an eye on you, Shimada. And no matter how important you might think you are on your mission, I will not hesitate.”

“I understand,” Hanzo said emotionlessly.

“I hope you do,” the commander snapped. “I will not stop for even a moment to dismiss you both if this is a problem.” He gave you a blasting glare. “Especially if I were to find you are lying to protect him.”

You both nodded again. The commander dismissed you both with another stare and a rustle of papers. Hanzo held open the door and you thought that you felt the warmth of his hand at your back, but with after a growling cough from the commander, you felt his hand drop.


	13. Chapter 13

Out in the hallway, you let out a huge breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Hanzo glanced over at you in what might have been a solemn relief. As one, you both went back down the hallways to your apartment. He took the key from your shaking hand and opened the door before looking around inside. At a nod from him, you slipped inside with the muscular man right behind you.

You were barely in the door when Hanzo was right in front of you. Both of his palms slammed into the wall on each side of your shoulders. He leaned right on top of you, his face right in front of yours.

His face was fierce and wild as he glared down at you. “Why?” he rasped. “Why did you...? Why defend my mistake when it could cost you your career? Have you no sense of self-preservation?” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, like he had been running for miles. “Why protect me with your career—yourself on the line? Why defend me at all?” He paused with an unsteady breath. “I was sure that I would lose you.”

One hand came off the wall to cup your pale cheek. When he did open his eyes, they were dark and seemed to be burning. “I was sure I would lose you,” he whispered again. He pulled you a bit closer, until you could just barely feel his lips against your own. “That we would be reassigned and I never see you again.”

You couldn’t help it, but you leaned a bit forward. His lips brushed yours almost timidly. There was a soft moment as your lips pressed together. You reached up around his neck, tugging him towards you. He whimpered—a soft whine—and you felt his muscles give and his whole body pressed hard against you. His hips curled forward insistently, grinding against your hips with a ridge of hot silk against your soft body.

You could feel heat pool inside you as you realized what you were feeling. His body shook slightly as you timidly pressed forward against him again. His lips went softer still, a drifting ghost over your skin. His hands trembled as he slid further against you, grinding against you in a desperate heat. Your thighs squeezed and you were sure that your sudden slick was going to drip down your leg.

He pulled back a bit to stare at you, his face tight with passion. “I could not bear it if I lost you.” His lips drifted to your forehead, achingly soft. “I could not bear it any more than I could bear losing my dragons. Losing my soul.”

The dizzy moment pressed on as you were swamped with the scent of fresh green tea and incense. His eyes were wide, the color like dark black coffee and a thin rim around the blown wide pupils. His lips brushed your cheek gently.

“Please,” he whispered, grinding against you one more time with a desperation that made your blood catch fire. “Let’s go to bed.”

You let out a whimper as his hands slid to your wrists. He pulled back and led you through to the bedroom. Quietly, he pulled open the drawers until he found a long nightshirt which he tossed over his arm before standing back in front of you. You looked up at him curiously—he had never attempted to undress you before—and bit your lip nervously as you instinctively tensed.

“Relax,” he whispered hoarsely, weakly holding his hands up. “Nothing will happen without your consent.”

You nodded and saw him smile in relief at your consent. He gently began sliding off your top. Slowly, with reverent strokes, he pulled off your clothes and, to your surprise—you were not going to admit your disappointment—he slid on the nightshirt. He drifted to the bathroom and came back with your brush. Pulling you to the bed, he sat you down on the bed before sliding behind you.

Ever so slowly and evenly, he slid the brush through your hair. It was soothing and slow, a gentle caress through your hair. You couldn’t help but whimper when he stopped. Behind you, you heard him let out a soft sigh of a chuckle as his fingers came back to thread through your hair and gently massage your scalp.

“Shojo,” he whispered in a soft voice that made you shiver. He fingers pressed lightly into your scalp and down to your neck. “Trust me—please. Just relax.”

He sighed heavily, as though he were unbearably tired and his voice took a softly desperate note. “I truly want you to relax.” His hands jittered on your shoulders for a moment. “I...want you to feel safe, to trust in me. Trust that I will not harm you.” They flinched again as you let out a soft sound. “I want you to....”

His voice faded into the silence of your apartment. You shuddered slightly. “Let’s...let’s just....”

You couldn’t say anything either. He was kneeling so close behind you on the bed. You could feel his warmth from your neck to your hips, feel his hot hands as they carefully glided down your arms to cup your elbows. It felt innocent and arousing at the same time. He was so close, so very close. Yet, so very far. You stayed still, as though he was a wild creature from the forest that would vanish from sight forever if you moved.

He sighed, his breath warm against your neck. “If you wish, we can...perhaps go to the garden?” His next breath was a soft laugh. “I only now remembered I need to feed the koi.”

You nodded softly, still being held close with his hands on your elbows. “Do they have names?”

He shrugged. “Ichi and Ni.”

You sighed, leaning a little closer. “So which is which?”

He shrugged. “The first one to reach me is Ichi and the second one is Ni. ‘One’ and ‘Two’.”

“‘One’ and ‘Two’.” You laughed. “Did you really name your koi ‘One’ and ‘Two’?”

“It was the only names I could think of.” You thought that you heard a strange tone in his voice. “I...did not want to become too attached.”

You stood up slowly. You knees did not want to stop shaking and you regretted leaving behind the warmth of the man. Slowly, you staggered to your dresser and pulled out a pair of sweat pants to slide on. It was a less steady warmth, a less welcome warmth. You picked up your boxes of pellets with a silent question and he pointed to one, so you set the other on the table.

Hanzo led you through the hallways slowly, as though he was reluctant to make the trip. Again, he opened all the doors for you, looking carefully and quickly around each one before allowing you to go through. Once in the garden, he turned on the night lights, giving the garden its soft glow. As before, he led you down the pebbled path to the labyrinth and you both walked it’s folding path to the center.

The red and white fish noticed you both as you stepped up to the side of the fountain together and came up to greet you. Opening the box, you poured a few pellets in your hand before handing the box to him. He nodded, muttering his thanks, and poured a few more into his palm. He moved a few steps away, which caused a small splash as the fish tried to figure out who was going to feed them first.

As before, the fish ate a few pellets from him and then swam over to eat at your feet when you dropped a few. Then, with graceful flicks of their tails, they went back to Hanzo. You smiled and dumped the last of your pellets, causing another race back towards you.

You walked back to him as he dumped another few pellets down and the fish splashed to get them. Closing the box, he gave it back before turning to stare at the fountain. His voice was hushed and hoarse as he spoke to you. “Whenever you feed them, you have to give them enough but not too much. What they are willing to eat in five minutes—somewhere between twice and three times a day. Otherwise, it goes to the bottom and causes them to become ill.”

You nodded, watching him as he kept solemnly staring at the spray of water. He paused again before adding, “The maintenance is fairly simple. The tiles are scrubbed by the maintenance robots who do the larger fountains. The water is deep enough that the cold doesn’t worry them too much and the fountain keeps it circulating. The water is hyper filtered and I usually replace the filter once a month.” He shrugged vaguely. “I see that you found my favor—...the pet store I normally go to. He often has the filters, but occasionally has to order the food so go before you need a new box. On holidays—special occasions—I get a teaspoon or so of live food from the pet store, but they don’t need it more than once a month.” He cocked a sad half-smile. “We both get to celebrate then.”

“So you celebrate the holidays...with the koi?”

He shrugged, still staring at the fountain. “They enjoy...enjoyed eating with me—especially when I can bring them bloodworms.”

You shivered a bit, cocking your head a little curiously. “You make it sound like...like you don’t plan on caring for them much longer.”

Hanzo shrugged again but said nothing, staring at them. Ichi and Ni had long since resumed their flawless orbits, ignoring both of you. He wanted to stay out here where you two could be at peace, but you were already shivering. Sliding off his yukata, he draped it around you. You smiled up at him as you tried to bunch it up around your smaller form, and he rolled the sleeves up just like a parent with a small child. The warmth in your smile made this feel like a special time as the chill wind reminded him....

It was entirely unexpected when you stepped close to him, leaning against his bulk. At first, it was a complete shock, but he was loathe to waste a moment on something as pointless as surprise. Not when he could wrap his arms around you. Not when he could rest the back of your head on his chest and feel your hair tickle his skin like an innocent caress. It was so innocent, so warm.... And now so forbidden.

“I did not intend to harm you,” he offered suddenly. “I never meant to risk your career.”

You leaned further against him and let out a puff of breath. “It’s just a written warning.” He let out a noise that you felt through his skin rather than heard. “McCree swears that he’s gotten hundreds of them.”

“McCree is...careless,” he whispered against your hair. “I forbid—.” He stopped himself with a soft curse, and then tried again. “Do not follow his example.”

You tried to tease him. “And Genji?”

His face went taut again and his whole body shuddered, his muscles clenching harshly. You could hear his teeth gritting and his hands came to grip your shoulders. He clenched your shoulders so tightly it made you gasp. As soon as you did, his hands shook and released you. 

“Are you hurt?” He whispered in your ear in a tone that spoke of some inner agony. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head. “N-n-no.” He did not let you go, but his hands were looser and more comforting. “And I won’t...won’t talk to Genji if it would...would help.”

He sighed heavily, his arms going around your waist. “I...I....” His kissed your shoulder tenderly. “I do not deserve you, my firebrand. My thoroughbred.” You turned in his arms to face him. His eyes searched yours with agony and fire in them. “My precious blossom, let me. Please, just...ahh...let me.”

You looked up at him and nodded. Slowly, his arms tightened, drawing you closer against his warmth. His body was tense and you could feel the jutting hardness against your groin. His face was like a hawk’s, his eyes glittering in the darkness. He swooped down, a pounce that claimed your lips.

Suddenly he went from hard to soft, his lips coaxing yours open. As soon as you opened your lips, he groaned and you felt his tongue slip inside to caress yours. You whimpered and slid closer. It felt like he was on fire, his bare chest under your hands. When your hands stroked his chest and rose to his shoulders, he groaned and his head leaned back for a desperate breath. You leaned closer as he did to press a kiss to his bare throat. He panted, his hands shaking at your waist.

“Koneko.” His body rocked back as his eyes flickered open to stare at the starlight overhead in shocked awe. “My priceless treasure.” His eyes closed again as you stood on your tiptoes to kiss his jaw. “My blossom. My ojo.”

Your fingertips went to his cheeks and you felt him gasp. His chest heaved, panting as though he had run for miles. When you let out a whimper, he looked down with agonized eyes. “I...I was so—. When I heard you say that you chose me—I can not tell you how I felt.” He panted a shaky breath in. “Then...you told him—Genji—you preferred me.” His arms clutched around you. “I can not bear the thought of losing you.” His voice cracked to a thin and desperate tone. “What did I do to deserve you?”

You felt his arms gripping you even tighter, one hand rising to press your head forward and the other sliding down to press your hips against his as they curled forward. He cursed softly, his words soft and stuttering. You slid even closer to him, sliding your hips against his in a heated reply to his unspoken demand.

His longing, his desperation, his—whatever it was, wrapped around you and made your toes curl and your stomach clench. He rained soft kisses on your forehead, along your hair and that only settled more sparks on your skin. Pressing closer, you nuzzled his skin dizzily, your keening sounds caught between your lips and his skin. A warm honey feeling pooled between your legs and your thighs shifted unsteadily and eagerly. Even if your mind was confused, your body had no problem figuring out that he was what you wanted.

Hanzo reeled, almost falling backwards as he felt you yielding, your body warm and soft. His cock ached to be buried in you and that was chasing everything else from his mind. You were again the soft and wild creature in his hands with the inborn knowledge he was far stronger, far faster and a predatory hunter to his core. His throat went dry and scratchy as he kissed your eyelids and your cheeks before returning to your lips. He flinched to feel your hands graze against his body—shy and modest enough to not dig into his clothing but curious and seeking nonetheless—because every touch was becoming a burning agony.

You whimpered again, your hands settling on his chest. Your body was crushed against his, grinding closer in an attempt to find what you needed. He was warm—a furnace burning in the night—and steady like a rock. It was impossible to imagine what else you could want. He switched from soft to firm, his hands firmer and guiding. Slowly one hand guided yours to his hips, curling your fingers around the insistent curve of his cock. You jerked him forward suddenly, grinding your body against his.

After a shuddering moment, you whimpered, “If...if I call you ‘Master’, will you...tonight?”

He shuddered again and you thought that you heard him moan softly. “I never thought that you would...would ask me.” He kissed the top of your head reverently. “Even when...when I was so close to you—I feared that I would never...have you....”

You were about to say something, to press a kiss up to his throat, but there was a harsh buzzing that interrupted the silence. Hanzo cursed, his body suddenly tensing for a moment before he reached and pulled out his phone. You couldn’t see the message, but the red bubble and heavy type said it was a mission alert. He cursed again and stepped away from you.

“I must leave,” he whispered, looking away from you. “It is an emergency.” You nodded, shivering in his yukata. His cheeks flushed and he whispered, “I am grateful for this time with you.”

You heard something alarming, something strange, in his tone, but he refused to look at you. Instead, he led you back to your apartment, walking inside after you and grabbing his bag. He smiled wanly as he pulled out the canister of green tea and set it on a counter. Then, with another hot, longing look, he stepped out of your apartment. You were still staring at the door when he closed it softly behind him.

There hadn’t been any mission you were aware of. Nothing that involved your team—Smithson, Juarez, Patel...any of them would have told you. They usually gossiped for days about missions. So what on earth could be going on? You shivered as you made some calls. The rest of your teammates were apparently as mystified as you were—no one knew what might have called the Shimada man away. One of them suggested going to Genji, but that was a last resort for you and you only nodded before hanging up.


	14. Chapter 14

Back at your apartment, you sat up, staring at nothing and shaking as you huddled in Hanzo’s silk yukata. Somehow the whole base seemed oppressively quiet. You fixed a cup of Hanzo’s green tea, sipping it and hoping it would make you feel better.

Nope—it only made you want the big man even more.

After some restless time, you looked at the clock—12:29 a.m.—and wrapped up in a heavier sweatshirt and folded the yukata to put it on the chair. Grabbing the box, you went to the garden. Flicking on the lights, you waited for Ichi and Ni to notice. It took them a while, but they did finally come to you. You dropped a few pellets for them.

They were less eager to come to you and didn’t seem to be eager at all to get more than a few pellets. You didn’t know what to do, so you watched them swim slowly around and around. Your thoughts were all jumbled and screaming as you realized you missed his warmth even here. You didn’t know how long you watched them, but you were shivering violently when you finally went in and climbed into your lonely bed.

The next morning, Hanzo’s entire team got messages that they were “temporarily reassigned”. You were on Hana’s team, and she was as mystified as anyone else that she had a new team member. Gamely, you went through her workouts and training—silently mourning that she wasn’t nearly as tough as the Japanese man. In her defense, she did put more emphasis on gadgets and technology than he did.

Smithson and Patel were at lunch and waved at you as you slunk in. You sat with them, picking at the salad you had grabbed. You sighed over the salad, poking the mixed greens with a plastic fork.

“So what happened?” asked Patel.

Smithson shook her head and shrugged. “The rumor is that he’s out. That Genji went with him.”

“Out?”

“Yeah,” Smithson sighed. She shuddered and looked pointedly at you. “Someone said that he go into a lot of trouble and got the axe. That Genji followed him out after a blowout with the commander.”

You swallowed, suddenly a lot less hungry than before. “The...the message said ‘temporarily assigned’. Maybe..?”

Patel nodded. “Well, at least the bastard won’t be dragging us to the range every day. Or his extra training and sparring.” He puffed out a breath. “I don’t regret not getting my ass handed to me daily. Reinhardt only does sparring twice a week.”

Smithson shrugged her shoulders. “Jesse isn’t so hard either. Maybe I’ll just stick with him. But I gotta go cause he wants to see me at the range.”

Patel gave a wolffish grin. “I’ll bet I know why!” Smithson just groaned in reply. “But I’ve got to meet with Reinhardt anyway.”

They got up and left you there, staring at your salad. Hana gave everyone a half-day off every week and wouldn’t that one day just have to be today so that you now had an entire afternoon to brood? You tossed the salad and stalked out.

So, you went out to feed the fish. It was a pointless task—Ichi and Ni barely paid attention to you. You finally ended up wiggling your fingers in the water—a suggestion from a website that sounded sketchy, but did finally attract their attention. At least, for the five minutes to feed them—then they went back to swimming and ignoring you.

For two more days, you were on Hana’s team and you worried every second of it. You looked terrible—you could barely sleep, you hadn’t eaten, and you felt like you were going to collapse. You spend far too long standing and watching the koi. Hana took one look at you on the third day and gave you a small smile before approving your leave. 

“Are you sure that you are all right?” Her face was friendly and open, and she so obviously concerned that you were catching something. “I don’t have any problem with you seeing the medics. We don’t want anyone catching something nasty.”

You shook your head. “Just feel bad—it’s probably nothing.”

She smiled at you again. “Why not take two or three days off anyway? Our mission isn’t for another three weeks and we need everyone at a hundred percent.”

You nodded slowly and left. You went back to your apartment and just sat there for two hours—staring at nothing and cradling the cold cup of tea. At dinner, you appeared long enough to confirm that the cyberninja was nowhere to be found. You didn’t actually eat anything—only grabbed some of the orange juice before going back to sit in the empty room as your tea turned ice cold.

You slept late—your dreams filled with empty corridors and cold rooms—and barely made it to breakfast. There was nothing that you could think of worth waking up for. Breakfast was what you could grab—a plastic cup of two boiled eggs, a piece of whole-wheat toast, and orange juice—and you stared at them as you sat at the table.

Suddenly, there was a commotion. You saw a crush of people running and heard everyone talking excitedly. Scooping up your meal in a styrofoam container, you wandered out to see what was going on.

Jesse was standing in front staring at the huge flat screen, watching the news. He had a frightening expression and the side of his cheek twitched as his teeth ground. You noticed that his hand kept drifting down to stroke the grip of his holstered pistol in a gentle and scarily slow way. The other agents gave the big man a wide berth and everyone’s eyes—even yours at last—were glued to the screen.

A smartly suited pair—a gray haired, dark skinned man and a woman with brown hair and red glasses—sat at a desk in front of some kind of random, generic cityscape—maybe New York City from the early 2000s. A series of red and green numbers ran across the bottom of the screen to show the rise and fall of stocks. A black bordered box flashed up in the corner of the screen, showing the Overwatch logo.

“...and in other news, Overwatch is back in the headlines. We have just learned that the hostage negotiations of the Japanese bullet train—including the tech millionaire Kaito Yomata and his family—have broken down. Overwatch has been trying to negotiate with the terrorist group 444-Shi for the safe release of the hostages, including Yomata. 444-Shi took control of the bullet train two days ago and it is not confirmed whether or not they have a briefcase bomb as some sources have claimed.

“When local police arrived on the scene, two hostages were shown on closed circuit television as they made their demands. At least 6 members of 444-Shi have been seen through the windows, but since then they have gone into the luggage car, which does not have any windows. It is presumed that any incendiary devices are also in the luggage car.”

The man turned towards the camera in a close up. “Police have confirmed that there is a possibility of a bomb and that several of the alleged members have made purchases that could be made into a explosive. Experts have guessed that if all the materials were used, the bomb could, in fact, level an area at least two blocks in radius.”

The woman got the closeup next and a series of pictures filled the screen behind her. “We have confirmed the identities of all but three of the people still on the train that are being held as hostages. Their families have been notified and have been put into protective custody. At the request of 444-Shi, Overwatch had been brought in to try to broker deal with these internationally known terrorists...”

Your face went pale as you stared at the faces. There was one that looked...a little familiar. You shook violently, almost dropping your meager breakfast. The room seemed to swim as the camera shifted and, somehow, the pictures were shuffled around both newscasters and the familiar face was gone. You kept searching for the picture, but it was missing. You clumsily sat down on the nearest piece of furniture as you were riveted to the screen.

The newscast shifted to “other news”—a local human interest story about a cop who got a kidney transplant from a fireman, a protest for Omnic rights at a high school, a politician caught in a scandal, budget problems, two traffic jam notices, and so on. Those stories had less interest than the never ending commercials about diet shakes, new vehicles, shopping events and sales. It was all noise, noise, noise when you really wanted the news to go back to the important story.

An hour passed and the news program went off in favor of a football game. You were highly annoyed to realize that the news was not coming back and fans of both teams were filtering in, making it impossible to think. You had eaten—barely—but couldn’t remember taking a bite.

You wandered back to your apartment, turning on your computer and doing a quick computer search for “444-Shi” and “bullet train”. Over a thousand results came back with absolutely nothing in the way of new information. The terrorist group had become more active recently, but this was a new low for them to hijack a train with what was assumed to be a dirty bomb. The train was currently on a bridge and there were hostages. They had requested that Overwatch be called in to handle negotiations, rather than deal with the local police. The current speculation was that Overwatch had more money to pay their demands than the local law enforcement.

Commentary—both professional op-ed and random, anonymous people—was alternating between criticism that the group had not been shot through the windows or something, that the human lives should be saved, crackpots warning about gun happy vigilantes, to not negotiate with terrorists and a peppering of conspiracy theories. The comments got a bit under your skin—you were pretty sure that you knew at least one of the “gun happy vigilantes” that was working on the situation. It didn’t help you to relax as you scanned page after page of comments and articles.

You had finally fallen asleep in front of the television when you heard the distinctive ringing sound of a news alert. Snapping up, you stared at the newscaster as he said, “And we have just received confirmation that the 444-Shi terrorist group has been apprehended. Authorities had this to say....”

A uniformed Japanese police officer who looked about fifty stared at the screen. He looked, in your opinion, exhausted and his voice was hoarse as he muttered into the array of microphones. The translator came out overloud and completely covered his voice.

“We are pleased to confirm that with the assistance of Overwatch, we have apprehended six members of the 444-Shi organization. The bullet train pulled into the Tokaido station and all of the passengers have been taken to the hospital to receive appropriate care. We have completed a comprehensive search of the train and removed two containers for further investigation. 444-Shi has been under increasing investigation and the motive for this attack is thought to be financial.”

A barrage of questions came out and the officer nodded. “The department of transportation is going to increase security at the stations. We regret any delays that customers experience—.”

The camera shuddered suddenly, giving you a quick blurry shot of overhead lights, and then turned towards a group of rough looking officers in what appeared to be completely black riot gear—masks, helmets, with sock like masks covering their faces, body armor, thick shields, boots. There were people in the middle of the crowd of officers, but their shields and shifting bodies made it impossible to see anything, especially as newscasters crowded around. At the edges, you could see camera-toting people and newscasters with their colorful sponge tipped microphones shoving back and forth, shouting questions and comments in a colorful variety of languages.

The riot gear clad people were jostled and wrestled as people tried to stick microphones and cameras in any opening between bodies. There was all kinds of rumbles and another teeth-rattling jolt of the main camera which gave sweeping, reeling images of street lights and images.

It made your stomach flip with all the sweeping and tossing and turning. You couldn’t keep straight anything and the entire newscast ended suddenly with a return to the news studio. The newscasters had to be painted robots because they looked just as fresh as any morning reporter. There was no new information to be had, which made the mysterious photo that you knew—just knew—you had seen even more disturbing.

You felt even worse the next morning from the lack of sleep and then when you managed to sleep, you were tormented with dreams of skeletal fish swimming around bony horses as they raced a burning train. You had spent most of the night watching the news and checking online news feeds. You were relieved to finally get a nap around 4:30 or so in the morning, which the station actually shut down for the night. You slept through breakfast and woke up close to the end of lunch.


	15. Chapter 15

You staggered to the cafeteria and got the vegetarian dish—vegetables in red Thai curry with jasmine rice. Mercy was sitting down, going over some notes and talking casually with some of the other med team, and she shot you a worried look when you half-waved at her. You gulped down the curry—it was surprisingly tasty and mild compared to the brilliant red color. You were reaching for another bottle of orange juice, when you heard someone come up behind you.

“Are you okay?” Mercy asked softly. “You look like you could use some help?”

You shook your head as you took another orange juice bottle. “It’s nothing. Just a bit of a bug.”

Mercy smiled. “Hey—could you just come by and let me check you out? Hana was worried.” She jumped a little and pulled out a small device with a lit up screen. “Oh dear.” She gave you a strained smile. “We might have to postpone that. We have a team returning.”

Your face went so pale that it made Mercy pause and reach out to check your pulse. “Why don’t you walk with me to med wing? I want to make sure that you’re okay, but there’s an emergency.” She gently tugged on your elbow, which shook you inside. “Come along.”

You followed along with her, mainly because you were so exhausted you didn’t know what else to do. She slid through the crowd easily—even the curious agents and support people—as she led you to the medical wing. As soon as the heavy doors opened for her, you were pummeled by the shouts and screams of more people as they ran around urgently. Everyone was alien to you, hidden behind medical masks and scrubs that covered just about everything but their eyes.

Mercy was instantly in her element. A crowd of people immediately surrounded her, bringing her latex gloves and a stethoscope and electronic pads of charts. She guided you to an empty stretcher in an empty examination area and told you to lay down.

She turned towards the small sink and began washing up as an assistant held a sterile plastic bag containing her scrubs. “So how long have you been feeling bad?” she asked over her shoulder as she scrubbed her arms. “How long have your symptoms been present?”

“Just a few days,” you muttered.

She finished scrubbing and ripped open the bag to pull the scrubs over her outfit. As you answered the normal questions, she disappeared behind a medical mask and the light blue shirt and pants of her scrubs. As her golden hair was stuffed under the loose elastic cap, she looked sadly at you. Waving her hand and dismissing the nurse that ran up to her, she cocked her head. “Offhand, I’d say that you are in love.” 

You stared dumbly at her. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you settled with a grumbling mumble, “That’s.... This is unnecessary. I’m just tired.”

Mercy snorted and laughed as she snapped on the gloves. “Sure. I’ve never heard that before.” She laughed softly. “So while I thank you for allowing me to get scrubbed up in your examination area, I think that you need to get some sleep and some good food. Do you think that there is someone that I can call to help you?”

It was on the tip of your tongue to say, “Hanzo”, but you he wasn’t there. That made you feel even smaller and more helpless. Instead, you said, “No...I’m just—.”

“Don’t even tell me ‘just tired’—I’ve heard it before about a hundred times,” Mercy sighed. “My prescription is to rest tomorrow, get some healthy food—even a high quality smoothie—and see if you can find someone to lean on.” She nodded at your murmured acceptance. “Look...stay for about four hours. Just to make me feel better since I have some real emergencies coming in and I can’t keep you here overnight.”

“Whatever,” you murmured. 

She looked at you and tapped some buttons. A huge countdown clock appeared on a wall mounted screen, showing “4:00:00” with a smaller digital clock underneath. “So, four hours from now, I’m going to come back and check you out and let you go home.”

You stared at the numbers as it became “3:59:59” and continued to count down. “Okay.”

She bustled out, nurses and physician assistants and other doctors surrounding her like bees surrounding a queen. As you stared at the countdown, you heard a guttural growl that sounded like Soldier:76’s voice and then Mercy’s voice in reply before a pain-filled yelp. Then a couple of other voices crowded around and drowned out everything else.

According to the countdown, 79 minutes later, most of the voices had died down. Some few had been dismissed—you had heard their voices and their footsteps go past the thin curtains around your examination area. A physician’s aid came in briefly, only to tell you to get some sleep until dinner came around. You were dozing slowly, but inevitably, you needed to get something to drink and to go to the bathroom. Staggering upright, you pulled the curtain aside and dodged the nurse darting through and looked for the bathroom. There were several beds still occupied—you could see a sliver of monitors and hear beeping as you walked past.

You were leaving the bathroom when you stumbled on nothing—literally, nothing. It showed how tired you were that you couldn’t lift your feet high enough to walk. You sucked in a brief breath as you got your feet back under you and glanced at the bottom of the curtain for the examination area next to you. You didn’t mean to do anything, didn’t honestly want to know—until you did.

There was a slick blue and black bow leaning against the bed.

You shook yourself. It wasn’t like Hanzo was the only archer in the world. There was even a small archery club here—headed up by the Japanese man and with several people who were all interested in learning from each other. It could be anyone.

But you knew it was him.

Glancing around and seeing that no one was paying much attention, you slipped inside the area. The bow was leaning against the bed and the quiver was hanging from a spare, steel IV tree. You’d honestly know those anywhere.

It was the man that you barely recognized. His hair was in almost a mohawk with the long middle section in some kind of messy ponytail or something. Around the sides, he was roughly shaved and scruffy. There was a barbell in the piercing in the bridge of his nose and an interesting earring in one ear. A heavy, casual coat was over the chair by the bed.

He had bandages wrapped around his ribs. His right hand was bandaged and there was a metal splint over the two fingers that weren’t covered in bandages. The other arm had a brace on the elbow and a bandage wrapped around his forearm. A tube curved around his ears and under his nose and then ran to the oxygen nozzle on the wall. One ankle was wrapped and had a pillow stuffed under it to raise it up. Two IVs dripped through plastic tubes to a needle in his arm. Rusty red spotted cotton was stuffed into one nostril. His skin was littered with bruises and scrapes and it looked like one eye was getting swollen and darkening.

You just stared at him, gasping for breath. Nothing about the person on the bed looked like what you remembered except for the long dragon tattoo down that swirled up his bandaged arm. He looked...battered like a careless child’s doll that lost a fight with a tank.

There was a whisper of sound behind you and an angry gasp. “What are you doing in here?!”

The tall, thin assistant glared at you. You gaped at the man on the bed and the one behind you. “S-s-sorry.” You pointed to the bed vaguely. “I...I’ve been...worried...missing—.”

Mercy burst in at that moment. She glared at you and snapped, “If you are prone to wandering, I will have no choice but to either confine you to your bed or send you home.” She looked down at...whoever that was. “I would like for you to choose correctly—and return back to your own area.”

You opened your mouth to snarl something in return, but Genji limped in just then. You hadn’t known that he could be that torn up, but he was. There were trails of blood coming out from under the plates over his body. Two of his fingers were mangled, twisted pieces of metal, and he was covered with scratches and dents. His completely robotic shoulder dented in almost completely and you thought you saw a collection of sparks that glittered in the cracks in his metal.

Dr. Ziegler gasped again, her pale cheeks flushing angrily. “Genji! I told you that you needed to lay down. What are you doing?” She reached out and gave one his shoulders a sharp push. “You were severely injured—.”

Genji nodded slowly, his metal plates clicking and gears grinding unpleasantly. “I’ll lay back down, Angela, but I wanted to at least give consent for this agent to visit Hanzo.” His joints twitched in a painfully jerking way. “I’m the next of kin—for now.”

Angela flushed angrily and crossed her arms angrily. “There was absolutely no reason to injure yourself like this.” Genji’s elbow jerked and both the doctor and the ninja cursed. “You need to rest.” Puffing out a breath, she ground out, “Your spare parts will be here within a few hours and in the meantime—!”

“In the meantime,” Genji interrupted with a metallic chip in his voice. “Hanzo has a guest.” He shrugged with another teeth-gritting series of grinding gears and scraping metal. “He is knocked out and cannot give consent, so I am for him.”

Mercy and her assistant stared at the ninja and he at them. After a moment, they nodded and grabbed Hanzo’s chart to make the necessary notes. They had you sign a few things, but it was quickly accomplished and Genji’s permission made it a lot easier than it might have been otherwise. The doctor dragged the ninja out, scraping and grinding and limping as he walked. You didn’t understand half of what they were saying as they left—servos and transistors and stabilizers and plasma cooling transfusions. 

The whole area seemed to be deathly silent again as you pulled a steel framed chair over to the bed. You looked at the battered man, your heart sinking as your world shrank to the curtained examination room and the beeps and boops of the monitors. 

From the side, you could still see that it was him—could see the sharp profile. He looked easily twenty years younger with the strange haircut and the piercings. He seemed to be frowning even in the medically induced sleep and every so often, his hands would twitch despite the heavy bandages and splint. Nervously, you reached out to touch his hand and he spasmed again. 

As you waited and watched, you forgot about time. Angela came in behind you and you didn’t even hear her.

“Are you okay?” the Swiss doctor asked with a weary lilt.

You nodded slowly, your hand still on his. Without even looking at her, you said dully, “Is he in pain?”

She leaned over him, her hands flicking to his pulse point on his wrist and then gently to a bruise on his skin. He didn’t open his eyes or say anything—but you saw him jerk slightly. “I see,” she said. “I’ll give him a bit more pain relief.”

She drifted out for a few minutes and then reappeared with a hypodermic needle with a clear liquid in it. She took his vitals again, tweaked a few dials and knobs, and then added the medicine. Almost instantly, his muscles relaxed and you felt relieved that even the slight twitches disappeared. Even his face relaxed which made him seem even younger.

Angela gasped shortly. Looking down at you, she offered you a wobbly smile. “He.... That is...usually....” She gave you a short, embarrassed sigh. “I thought that he was okay—that he just.... His resting face—.” She shrugged a bit nervously. “He looks a lot more comfortable now.”

You looked up at her, your face haggard and even more exhausted. She puffed out a breath and said, “I’ll sit with him if you like. Can you go take a walk? Maybe get something to eat?”

That startled you enough that you remembered the koi. You raced to your apartment and then grabbed the box of food. Ichi and Ni finally deigned to recognize you and ate a few pellets before going back to swimming. You grabbed a juice—100% cranberry and grape juice this time—before going to the medical area.

You sat down beside him and tried to keep sipping your juice. You told him pointless things—that Ni had pushed Ichi almost out of the water, that there were bugs skimming the fountain water and Ni kept chasing them, that you almost plowed into Jesse as you ran in the halls. You had no idea what you were babbling about, only that you wanted him to wake up.

You fell asleep with your head on the bed. There was no way for you to tell how long you slept, only that your entire body was sore when you blinked your eyes open. Nothing had changed as he laid there, he was still surrounded by monitors and still bandaged up. He was actually looking a little worse as the bruises were showing up more clearly.


	16. Chapter 16

You were going to stand up when you heard a soft whirring behind you.

“Up already?” Genji asked softly. You looked over your shoulder. The cyberninja stood there with his faceplate off, looking down at you. You bit your lip nervously before glancing at the archer again. “Yeah...he’s pretty beat up.”

You only nodded. Even when he was obviously knocked out, you weren’t sure he wasn’t somehow able to tell that you were talking to his brother. Finally, you whispered, “What happened?”

Genji sighed heavily. “It’s ugly. Are you sure you want to know?” You went pale and nodded. He smiled at you and pulled you gently into a consultation room where you had a modicum of privacy. “How much do you know now?”

You shrugged. “Only that he was being sent on a mission.” You paused. “I didn’t know there even was a mission until he left that night.”

“But you saw the news, right?” You nodded slowly. “The hostage situation was a little crazy. A lot crazy. 444-Shi is a...a crazy group.” He shrugged a little. “The commander—he sent Hanzo in undercover to try to provide cover for Kaito Yomata and his family.” His dark eyes flashed. “You understand, don’t you? He was in the bullet train when 444-Shi hijacked it.”

You shuddered and whimpered. “He...he was in there? He could have been killed!”

Genji cursed softly and nodded. “The commander put him in there. He did it deliberately, knowing that they had plans to start killing hostages and potentially had a bomb.” The ninja shrugged a bit. “Hanzo took out two of them, and that’s when they retreated to the luggage car.” His eyes turned bitterly cold and his voice dropped. “He didn’t tell them anything—not even that he was with Overwatch. Just his fake name and the story that he was visiting his aunt, so they beat him and taped it for the news to try to force their demands down our throats. It was supposed to make us desperate and willing to do anything.

“But they didn’t know him. Even when they left him for dead, he was listening and feeding us information. When we finally got our big push, he was the one who let us in and who led us to where the hostages were being kept.” He smiled thinly. “If it helps, he was standing right up until the last hostage got off the train.” His hand dropped on your shoulder. “He did not shame you—.”

You slapped him without thinking. “I would never, ever be ashamed of him!” You growled low. “He was amazing—I know it!”

Genji only laughed. “You look like you’re going to take me apart.” He nodded in approval. “I’m glad that you’re in his corner.” He shrugged. “So, you’re never going to take pity on a lonely ninja—?” You growled angrily, raising your hand again. “Hey...I’m kidding. Although there is a lonely ninja who does need your pity.” You blinked at him in surprise and confusion. “My older brother has trained as a ninja, too.”

“You..! You crazy—,” you gaped at him. Finally, your funny bone was tickled. “Yeah...I’m going to take pity on a really lonely ninja. Who is not you.”

“What does he have that I don’t?” Genji laughed.

“Silence,” you quipped back.

You both laughed and he led you back to the examination room. You sat down again, taking his hand. “Your brother is crazy, you know.” He didn’t move or anything, but you were convinced that he heard you. “He told me you were in there you...you....” You patted his hand. “Come on, you big lug, you have to get up.”

You kept up talking to him, leaving to get a newspaper. It was full of news about the hostage situation and the usual grinding bad news about the economy and politics and grocery sales, so you read him the advice columns, a funny op-ed about video games being violent, and then the comics. Genji came in when you were doing a squeaky voice for the baby in the strip and laughed.

“You sound like an idiot,” he laughed, showing you a styrofoam take out platter of Hunan-style beef and rice, with an egg roll and a fortune cookie. The restaurant was the same one that you loved. “So, I got this. I hope that it is the right stuff.”

“How did you...?” You looked up at him curiously. “You broke into my apartment?” He nodded unrepentantly. “What is it with you two and busting into my place?”

Genji shrugged. “It was easier than trying to find the spare key under the doormat.”

“I don’t even have a doormat, you idiot.”

“I know. That’s what made it hard.”

You gobbled up the food as Genji made small talk. It was stupid gossip—who was going out with who, who was getting written up by the commander, who was seen with who doing what—but it was easier to talk at all since someone was answering. Genji offered to give you a break and you went to feed the fish and, on impulse, went to town to the florist.

When you got back, you were alarmed to see Genji standing outside the examination room, his metallic fingers ticking on his folded metal arms. He looked at you and grimaced. “Angela is in there. He’s...he’s not doing well right now.”

You felt the floor drop out from under you. “Why? What happened?”

“He’s...being Hanzo,” Genji grunted. “He’s trying to wake up, but when he does, he is jerking and fighting everything. His temperature keeps spiking and his blood pressure keeps rising.”

“Ohmigod,” you gasped. “Is there anything that I can do?”

Genji looked at you closely. “Maybe you can.” He pulled open the curtain aside. Hanzo did look worse. His hair was spilled into a sweaty and tangled mass around his shoulders. His skin was littered with scrapes and bruises, but now it looked pale and rough. The crisp, white bandages were rolling and ragged around the edges. He was twisting and restless, despite his artificial sleep. “He’s always had nightmares, but this is...extreme—even for him. Angela thought that he was doing well, but he’s not. He keeps waking up fighting and trying to yank out the IVs.”

“Why?! What?!”

“He’s a bit...phobic.” Genji’s face dipped slightly in what you took to be embarrassment. “He hates being sick at all, but our father made him truly phobic.” You growled and tried to brush past him when he grabbed your arm. “He was left alone for hours or days whenever he was in the hospital. The first time he was shot in the chest, he left alone for a week and he had a reaction to one of the drugs in the IV. He almost died because no one else was watching.”

You all but tossed the bag to Genji and went to his side, taking his hand. “Hanzo...Hanzo! You’re here. You’re safe.” He jerked wildly and your hand went to his brow, brushing his hair back from his face. “You’re safe.”

He panted, swallowing heavily. There was a stifled sound and you brushed his brow again. He felt hot and clammy at the same time. You got a cup of ice water and pressed it to his lips. Almost as soon as you did, he swallowed some of it. His eyes fluttered half-open with a soft sound and for a split second, he was actually looking at you. A few swallows later, he laid back with a sigh.

Genji smiled behind you. “Hey, look at that.” You looked at the monitors. His blood pressure was slowly dropping, along with his heart rate. “You’re good for him.”

You nodded in bewilderment, holding Hanzo’s hand. Turning back to the archer, you murmured softly, “You’re safe. You’re home.” He shook a little under your hands. “You’re safe. Everyone is safe.”

Genji grunted behind you, fiddling with the bag you handed him. “Hey...you never got me flowers when I was injured.” Genji pulled out the two small ceramic pots surrounded with clear plastic boxes protecting their contents. The first one was a square container with shoots of bamboo that had been tied into a latticed column. The second was a deep mauve oval pot with three small ceramic feet that held three thin stalks with white orchids. “I’m almost jealous.”

“Just put them on the table,” you snapped. “I don’t want them ruined.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Genji answered in a drawl that mimicked McCree’s. He set the plants on the table beside the table. “So, he is going to live, right?”

Angela was right behind Genji and answered, “He will live. He just needs to relax and to heal. If she’s helping him stay calm and rest, then I need her here.” She shrugged a little helplessly. “He keeps fighting the anesthesia, keeps trying to...do something. We’ve had to up his dosage twice, which caused all kinds of side effects. It’s been a pain—especially since every time he tries to wake up, he keeps trying to yank everything off.”

Genji snorted sarcastically. “I’m all for it.” He shrugged at the doctor. “Anything that helps Han.”

It was a long, long time—almost endless—as you sat next to him. You spoke to him about everything and nothing. Genji brought you several joke books which were apparently part of his enormous collection. You were running out of things to say, so it was as good as anything to speak about. Ichi and Ni weren’t exactly interesting to talk about for hours, but the joke books were worse. You’d run out a few times to go feed them, running back to tell him which one won the race to get the first, who was a pig and ate too much, and which one ignored you first.

In light of the situation, when you told her over endless cups of hot green tea, Hana gave you indefinite leave. While you were technically still on her team, everyone knew (courtesy of Genji, probably) that you were going to sit with the archer, sanctioned by Dr. Angela Zeigler, herself. You were shocked to learn that there had been many more injuries than even Genji had known—namely a pretty severe concussion and some potentially serious blunt force trauma to his shoulders and spine. It was hard to listen to all of the injuries—and all the ways that things could potentially go wrong still.

But, you seemed to be helping in a small way. He seemed more stable, more relaxed—even better. You were actually becoming almost medically literate. The nurses had shown you how to swab him down to cool his fever and keep his scrapes from becoming infected, how to read the monitor and when to summon help. You could—thanks to Genji’s intervention as his next of kin—ask for extra medicines, ask for a cool compress to wipe his face, ask for whatever you thought he needed.

Unfortunately, the tests were practically Greek—whatever they were supposed to mean or to test for. Not even the ever patient Dr. Zeigler couldn’t break it down in small enough terms for you to understand it all. Genji just looked at you both in confusion when you tried to ask him about it, and shrugged, which was no help at all.

Finally, Hanzo’s eyes opened. He stared ahead stupidly for a moment, and then looked towards you. “You are really here.” He smiled stiffly, reaching slowly for your hand. “I...dreamed that you were here.”

He looked up to your face. “But you are not well? Have you not been taking care of yourself?” He moved stiffly, trying to roll, but his face screwed up in pain and he laid back down. “Why has Hana not sent you to the doctor?”

“I see Dr. Zeigler quite often,” you couldn’t help but giggle. Literally—you saw her about every two hours as she stuck her head in to check that you were still okay. You pushed on his shoulder gently to get him to lay down. “She said that you were pretty badly hurt.”

He half-shrugged with a grimace. “It was nothing.”

“She said that you had a concussion. That you had...back injuries.” You stroked his hand. “That there were head injuries.”

He grimaced again, glancing at the plants. “It was no worse than some of the other beatings that I have gotten.” He glanced at the bamboo, reaching to trace the curves of the plant with a finger. “It will...make me stronger, my...father said.”

You nodded, feeling like you were intruding on some memory or dream that did not include you. “Are you...? Do you want some...time?”

He glanced back at you, almost surprised that you were there. His gaze looked down at the collection of bandages and surgical tape. With a hesitant hand, he traced the shaved area around his head and then touched the piercing in his nose before glowering at his heavily bandaged right hand.

“I suppose that I should let you go,” he muttered sourly. Without looking at you, he nodded to himself, “You have...someplace to be, rather than trapped in this hellish place with me.”

You watched him without blinking for a moment. He stared blindly at the bandages and then the plants—silly things—and then back to his bandages. He then stared at the bandaged fingers on his right hand. You kept watching, hoping that he would say something or do something. Instead, he plucked at the bandages idly.

Finally, he said, “Hana has a good agent, now.”

“Now? Hana?” You sputtered. “But...you.... Your team? Smithson, Juarez and Patel? We’re all here.” He sighed, but said nothing. “We are all still here.” He ignored you. “And...us? Ichi and Ni?”

He snorted. “They are only fish.”

“And what am I?”

“You?” He finally looked at you. “You are...a fabulous agent.” He glanced wistfully at the small planters before looking back at you. “You are like the bamboo—strong and flexible. The wind may bend you, but you will not break—only bend and then straighten with strength.” He sighed, looking at his bandaged fingers. “I predict that you will have a long and fruitful future, a true hero with a bright future ahead of you.” He sighed sadly again. “Hana is most fortunate to have such a good agent on her team.”

You paled, rocking back at the depth of gravity in his voice. He looked away from you, staring blankly at the monitors as they beeped. There was...nothing else for almost half an hour. Finally, you turned, whispering, “G-give me a call when you g-g-get out.”

Genji saw you as you slid down the hallway.“Hey, beautiful.What’s wrong?”

You shrugged.“Maybe you can talk to him.”The ninja cocked his head curiously.“He’s...at least talking.”

Genji rolled his eyes theatrically.“He’s never been good at that.”Crossing his arms, he smiled, “So what did he say to you?”You shrugged again.“That good, huh?”Genji sighed heavily.“I can only imagine.”

“He’s...saying that Hana is lucky to have me.”Tears filled your eyeshadow you stared up at him.“Why would he say that?”

Genji shook his head, his eyes closing in frustration.Finally he put his hand on your shoulder and squeezed it good-naturedly.“Give him time.He can usually get things figured out.”You looked up at him mournfully.“He’s been beat to hell and back.He might just need some time.”He smiled.“Chin up.It will be all right.”


	17. Chapter 17

Hanzo couldn’t stop staring at the plants as he laid in the bed. You had brought him a spot of color in the form of the flexible bamboo and pale orchids that left a soft smell in the antiseptic air. He didn’t want to look down at all the bandages and whatnot—the reminders of how badly his part of the mission went.

You still went out and got him the tiny planters.

If he wasn’t out of his head on medications, he would be aroused just from his inborn excitement that you had thought enough of him to get him something while he was here in the hospital. He always dreaded hospital stays, hated being in a sterile white room with an uninteresting frosted window in the best of times and nothing in the worst, and in a crazy bed that always seemed to have the most uncomfortable lumps and bumps as it raised this limb and lowered that one and turned him into contortions. Hanzo couldn’t help but smile at the smooth curves of the lattice. He had seen one like this before in his mother’s suite and had once put one of his plastic toy dragons on it so that it was climbing up and up.

He glanced at the spray of orchids with their crisp white blossoms with the tiniest pink in the middle. He was not generally fond of flowers, but these were ones that you had chosen for him, thinking of him. The soft fragrance chased the nightmares he had been having away—those damning nightmares of explosions and pain and the snapping sounds of his bones breaking.

They had beaten him, tormented him, but they could not break him because he had kept seeing you in his mind. He had wrapped his mind around a picture of you waiting for him at the bottom of the gangplank with a smile of welcome on your face. It had not made the pain go away, but keeping you there made him feel less abandoned, less disconnected, less alone.

Everyone knew going in that he was in the suicide seat—the one most likely to die. He had been rushed to Japan, his appearance altered on the way. He had to close his eyes when they took out the piercing device—he didn’t even look at it—and pictured you in the garden by the koi pond, still wearing his yukata as the device drove the barbell in. He had pictured you stretching in the workout room as he wired up with microphones and had bought the ticket for the bullet train. He had pictured you in the cafeteria as he sat down next to one of the passengers that had been identified as a potential terrorist.

The commander had sent him in alone, disarmed, knowing that he was riding a train with a possible dirty bomb. He had never made any excuses—he had it in for the archer. It was a desperate mission to begin with to rescue Yomata and his family—big businessmen could always pull favors and get help that ordinary citizens could not. He had originally planned on simply unhooking the luggage cart and dropping a tracker on it. He had not counted on the terrorists moving in so early—killing the conductors almost as soon as the train was moving.

He had not been able to stop them from killing the train staff, but he had managed to wrestle one of them to the ground to keep him from grabbing a small child. Five more had jumped up and grabbed him, dragging him to the center aisle. He only wanted to give them as much of a fight as he could as they hauled out their video equipment. He thought he had a chance right up until one of them grabbed the barbell in his nose. He crumpled immediately—the fresh piercing screaming in pain—and saw them bring out a needle of drugs. His world immediately folded into a kind of mental origami where he could not move, but could scream as they began filming.

But the Dragon of the South was not going to be defeated by something as simple as drugs. The Shimada-gumi had run drugs all over Japan and he knew more than anyone what drugs did to the body. His father had made sure that he and Genji both took doses of everything that they sold—to know what they did and how they felt. He knew that dizzy feeling with the slight taste of sour milk in his mouth. He gave 444-Shi the performance that they wanted—which wasn’t hard as they began breaking his fingers—but had managed to beg the youngest one who looked about fifteen for some cola from the bottle he carried. He had felt something like this before and the caffeine had helped, but the sugar had helped him stabilize more because this was a potent drug mixed with insulin.

He forced himself to be quiescent, quiet, until they switched their devices’ batteries. Then he leapt into action. He got four of them down using his kicks and knees and elbows. The camera was running and he managed to get it set up outside the window, pointed at what he hoped was a landmark the rest of the team could use.

He blindly stumbled through the cars with a gun he had picked up from one of the bodies. It felt like years passed as he got the passengers moving towards the front cars. He was in the last car when he saw the remaining terrorists surrounding Yomata Kaito’s family and trying to move them to the luggage car. Then he had seen the glass shatter and people dropped down. He kept low, kept trying and backed out to one of the middle cars. His eyes were blurry now—the drugs overtaking the soda he had gulped down—and he fumbled with the heavy doors when he finally saw Genji’s glowing lights somehow outside the windows. They both shot the door controls and finally pried open the stubborn things enough to let the cyborg in.

From somewhere, he had taken a sniff of fresh air and it reminded him of Ichi and Ni and then of you. That gave him the strength, as agents were swarming in to go to the engine car and pull the corpse of the conductor off the controls. There he saw the huge German crusader and the metallic form of Bastion, standing on the tracks with weapons at the ready.

He smiled—he remembered that—and saw the clear moon in the sky above them. He thought of you and that you should never know...what? Whatever the end of that thought was, he had looked down to see the crooked ruins of his hands and then the world went black.

He had walked in nightmares. Anesthesia didn’t agree with him in the best of times, but without him being able to say what he had been injected with, desperate hours had passed as they analyzed his blood to see what he had been given. So, he had nightmares—nightmares of huge, burning mushroom clouds and people dying in heaps of ash, skeletal fish swimming around him and images of you running away from him. It had been a relief when finally he had sunk completely into darkness.

You had been there when he had awoken. He flinched inside at first, not wanting to see your face melting off or shot off or some other such disaster. But you were there, were real, as you held a cup of ice water for him. He had burned in nightmares for so long that it was a relief to sip it and just look at you.

But he had known, from the first moment he had awoken, that he was not whole. He had felt the bones break, remembered their crunch, and could feel the supports and the stitches and the things that were holding him together. He knew then he was not whole.

It flattened him for a breathless moment. He suddenly had nothing to offer and the ground underneath the room suddenly vanished and became smoky air. He could not be a Unit Leader, could not be a field agent, could be nothing without the use of his hands. What kind of man considered offering a lady of value nothing?

His pride, his wounded ego, held him upright. He sent you away and summoned the doctors immediately after you departed. First, he removed your name from his contact list—his pride demanded that you not be privy to how truly bad his injuries were. He tried to remove Genji as well, but the systems and paperwork named his brother as his next of kin and unless he produced a wife, he had no choice. Pride satisfied, he stared at the flowers and tried to tell himself he was content that you had thought of him after all.


	18. Chapter 18

You got checked out by Mercy the next morning and she cleared you to work. She just nodded when you told her that you were tired, thanked you for staying with the archer so much, and then smiled stiffly. You couldn’t resist asking, “How is Hanzo doing?”

She flinched a bit. “I-I-I am truly sorry, but I can’t tell you anything.”

“Why?” Your eyes were wide and you felt yourself grow pale. “Why? When I’ve been there? He...shouldn’t feel...shy or ashamed. I’m just worried about him.”

She turned a little pink. “He has removed you from the contact list.” You gaped at her. “He tried to remove Genji as well, but Genji is literally his next of kin as his brother.” She stared at you shrewdly. “It is his right to keep his medical information private, but you can still tell me anything you thing would help me treat him.”

You couldn’t think of anything. “I...I don’t know. I just wanted to help.” You looked up at her plaintively. “I...I just wanted to help.”

She sighed, “I know.” She offered you a smile. “I’ve treated him enough to know that he’s stubborn and won’t open up for anything or anybody. Don’t worry—we will do the best we can for him.” 

You reported to Hana and settled into her routines as quickly as you could. She was, as you remembered, nowhere nearly as disciplined as the archer. She didn’t bring you to the range more than twice a week. She took you all sparring for about three hours—once a week. You were required to learn more about the tech that supported everyone at Overwatch, which was a new challenge and a blessing because it occupied your mind when that same brain was determined to be fixated on the archer.

“You are really disciplined,” Hana complimented as the team broke up after sparring. Her cheeks pinked a little. “And I really appreciate you staying to help clean up.” You nodded blankly, picking up the weight gloves and putting them in their box in the storage area. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have someone who helps clean up.”

You said the right things, thanked her. You swept the mats and you both walked to the cafeteria. The food was bland and you didn’t remember what you chose even a few minutes after you picked it. You poked bits and ate them, washing them down with water. You nodded at Patel and Smithson and Hana, waved at Jesse and then went out the door.

You took a cup of hot tea out to watch the koi as they swam around. They came to you and you gave them pellets for a few minutes and then they returned to their lazy circles. Sipping the tea gave you feeling of peace, even if it was a lonely peace. You sat down by the fountain, ignoring the frigid ground.

“You know, guys,” you whispered to them. “It’s...it’s gonna be just you and me for a while. Hanzo’s back, but he’s torn up and won’t be here for a while.” You shrugged. “I’ll go to town and get you guys a new filter tomorrow. Maybe some bloodworms.

“It’s just us guys. Just us three. Me sitting here and feeding you and you all swimming.” You took a deep swallow of the green tea. “At least...at least I still have a job. After all the time I spent with Hanzo, I’m lucky to still have one.” Another swallow and you let out a watery snicker. “Although, I now have a lot more knowledge about how hospitals work.”

Ichi came near you again, sticking his head up at you with his whiskers flicking. Ni nudged him away from the side with a fishy flip. You couldn’t help but wonder if that was a gesture of disapproval or not.

“Still...I can’t figure things out.” You sighed as you cradled the cup in your palm. “I think that maybe...maybe we could have had something together. Or maybe we did and it’s gone now. I don’t know.” You shrugged and your eyes filled with tears. “But now its just you two and me.”

Looking up at the sky, you saw a lonely bat whirling around. Just like you, whirling in pointless circles and trying to find something in the dark.

“It’s late guys,” you whispered. “I’m just a little crazy right now. It’s been a long few weeks.” Ni whirled in closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll be here in the morning.”

You went to the pet store and got the filters. The owner wanted to talk—he showed you the two new pictures of his customers’ pets. You ooo’ed and ahhh’ed over the large red macaw and the small tank with a brilliant purple beta and two tiny neon tetras with a pretty orange plastic plant buried in white gravel. You picked up the filters and took your time choosing a tube of bloodworms (which were bright red and looked like disgusting little flakes of blood) and a tube of little white things that the man swore that koi adored.

Over the next week, you took little dribbles of the treats out. You fed them in the morning at breakfast, a lunch and after dinner, along with a midnight treat when you couldn’t sleep. They came to you eagerly, which was your most certain indication that Hanzo was still in the hospital. Surely he’d come here and feed them once he got out—which was the closest to an announcement you’d get since he had locked you out. Mercy could only shrug and repeat the HIPPA policies and that she was terribly sorry, but Hanzo Shimada had requested complete privacy.

So, you kept up with the only other creatures that Hanzo might be willing to see regularly. Genji kept saying that you should give him time. You had never heard such unhelpful advice.

The next week, you were getting dinner in the cafeteria. The gossip had moved on—everyone staring at Jesse and a cute blonde and whispering about them. No one noticed you as you picked up the cup of soup and a small plate of carrots and hummus. No one whispered or giggled as you sat down. Hanzo had been right—they had moved on to talk about Jesse, about Genji, about 76 and everyone else.

You were staring at your cup, debating if the swollen barley grains really looked like the brine whatsits things you had dumped in with the koi, when you heard all of the conversation stop. Looking up, you saw the archer standing cautiously in the doorway. Everyone stared—some with their hands halfway to their mouths—as he walked to the line and picked out the chicken dish, a side salad, and a bottle of organic green iced-tea. Without stopping, he went to his usual corner and sat down, staring down at his food and eating it solemnly without looking at anyone.

There was a sudden rattle of silverware and a rush of whispers and titters. He ignored all of it, calm as a monk on a mountain. At least, he pretended he was calm—you could see his hand was not entirely steady.

On impulse, you picked up your dinner and went over to the corner table. He looked up when you pulled out the chair next to him. Without stopping, you sat down and began sipping the soup amidst the rush of whispers and giggles.

He stared at you. “What are you doing here?”

“Eating.”

“No,” he said softly. He glanced around, scowling at the openly gawking faces. “What are you doing here? With me?”

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” You looked up at him. “We are...were...together.”

“No,” he whispered. “You should not be here.” He glanced around beneath his lashes. “The gossip. The whispers.” He shrugged. “You were so plagued by them.” He took another bite, obviously without tasting anything. “And your career is finally back on track.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“Hana commended you on your high performance during training.” He managed to grace you with a painful half-smirk. “She said that you were disciplined and professional and highly skilled.”

“Thanks to you,” you nodded, waving in his direction. He only nodded, staring down at his meal without expression and swallowing heavily. “So when do you get your team back?”

He shrugged. “I will return to partial-active duty at the end of the week.”

“And after that?”

He held up his right hand, gesturing meaningfully. You stared at two fingers—his pointer and middle finger—that still had flesh colored bandages. He picked at the bandages, unwrapping them, and showed you the thin lines along both the knuckles.

“After that will depend on how well these heal,” he muttered. He sighed and whispered, “I have only two hours without using...additional support. The doctor has an Omnic device she wants me to wear the rest of the time.”

You stared at his hand as he replaced the bandages. Without another word, he picked up the dishes and dropped them in the dirty dish bin. Then he left.

You debated whether or not you should wait for him. You were going to give him until 11:30, but at 10:30—well, 10:15 at any rate—you went to find him. He wasn’t anywhere else, so you figured that you would go with plan B. You packed a small bag—overnight stuff like your spare toothbrush and a nightshirt—and went to find the ninja.

Genji was exactly where he always was at night—playing cards against Jesse. It was always a contest between those two and they played most every night. Genji kept trying to use his cybernetic cameras to keep track of the cards as they shuffled. Jesse counted cards. Jesse dealt from the bottom of the deck. Genji shuffled so quickly that he could stack cards almost without a flicker. They both used most every trick ever conceived to try to best the other. In short, between Jesse’s skill and Genji’s cybernetics, it was the most honest game of cards on the base because they each knew for a fact that the other was cheating as much as they were.

They both flopped their cards on the table as soon as you came in. Jesse pulled his hat down with an embarrassed flush and begin flipping through the plastic chips. Genji only looked up at you with a questioning look.

“Game’s over, Genji. Come on,” you snapped.

He snorted and gave the cowboy a little wave as he stood. “Catch you later, cheater.”

“Any time, squirt.”

The cyborg followed after you gamely as you led him down the hallways. He said nothing, even when you stopped in front of Hanzo’s door. You pointed to the knob.

“Oh? What would you have me do here?”

“Open it,” you snapped.


	19. Chapter 19

He reached down and turned the knob. It slid open easily and the door opened silently. “Well, that was easy.” He smiled at you flirtatiously. “And this is what you pulled me away from a high three of a kind for?”

You glared at him and shrugged. “So I...overreacted.”

He waved good-bye as you slipped inside and closed the door. The room was dark as dark could be, but you could hear the shower running. Sneaking in on tiptoes, you peaked around as best you could. The only light was from the bathroom through a crack in the door.

You dropped your bag and stood there, just at his front door. You leaned against the wall at a sweet spot where you could see through a crack in the door, but you were otherwise in shadow. It afforded you a view of the entire apartment—almost—but left you in a defensive and hidden spot that he could not readily see you.

And that was when you knew the archer and his ways had rubbed off on you.

He had pulled down his hair and you could see it fall in a vague and haphazard way around his face, making him look like he hadn’t been shaved at all. The gray at his temples was gone, and the piercings—tiny dots of metal in his nose and rings around his earlobe—glistened like stars against his dusky skin. He still looked much younger with the piercings, the new hair style and no gray, but his scowl still seemed to add years and cares to his appearance.

He looked at his hands bitterly. From your hidden vantage, it appeared that his left hand was rough and had a few small cuts and bruises as he examined it. His right hand was another story. He unwrapped the bandages from around it and took off an Omnic support structure that helped cradle his fingers. Setting that aside, he tried to straighten his fingers.

He let out a pained cry, his hand and arm jerking uncontrollably and knocking the mechanical device to the floor. The lines were a livid red against his skin and his entire hand appeared swollen. You thought you could see that his bruised knuckles were swollen too, like soft and mushy marshmallows across his hand.

With a painful grimace, he shrugged out of the yukata and you fought to not cry out at the incredible scrapes and bruises that crisscrossed his skin. The dark purple splotches were all over his back with a particularly dark one between his shoulder blades. He must have been beaten terribly and whatever caused that one dark one must have sent spasms through his body as it slammed directly into his spine. Your eyes watered to see the evidence of such pain.

He fumbled with the ties to his hakama next. The ties were more stubborn and his hands could not seem to grab the thinner ties properly. He scowled even more fiercely as his right hand refused to curl around the ties and his left hand was not quick enough to bend to his will. He all but ripped the cord loose and dropped the loose pants. More bruises and scrapes littered his skin there, one ankle puffy.

He fumbled open the shower door and you saw billows of steam surrounding him as he stepped inside. He tried to reach out to the door, but his curled and cramped fingers couldn’t grab the handle, so he sighed impatiently and left it open. The warm water began streaming down around him, plastering what was left of his hair to his skin. He winced as the warm streams scraped over his wounds. Everything seemed to hurt as he twisted to find some way to get clean that didn’t ache.

Finally wet, he leaned against the back of the shower. It seemed agonizing to even just stand there and when he tried to grab the soap, his hands fumbled clumsily. It slid around and through his fingers like it was demented and he cursed violently. Finally gripping it again, he hissed some curse words at it before trying to rub it into his skin. He growled like a bitterly captive beast that was forced to be cleaned in some zoo.

Finally, he stopped with a scowl on his face. Leaning back against the wall of the shower, he dropped his hands to let the water beat against him. The archer was battered, but still beautiful as he panted against the tiled wall.

You were going to leave—obviously you were not wanted here—but then something caught your eye. He rolled his head back, his hair clinging wetly to the tiles behind him. He scowl eased somewhat and his eyes with their ridiculously thick lashes closed. His right hand curled slightly and he flinched again before letting it drop to his side. Then he brought his left hand up and you saw his cock growing hard.

He whispered your name in a soft and reverent tone. His left hand clumsily wrapped around his dick and stroked his balls. He whispered softly as his hand tugged down to the red tip and then slid slickly back up. His hips unsteadily pushed forward, forcing his cock into his fist.

He whimpered your name again, the sound strangled and echoing in the tiled room. “I need.... I need.” His hand wrapped tighter and he pushed harder into his fist. “Why do I need what I cannot have?”

His cock was hard, jutting out like a tree. His hand wrapped stiffly around his hard manhood as the other slammed against the wall. “I want you,” he whispered as he tugged on the shaft. “Your mouth...right here.”

Your mouth went dry and fell open slightly. Heat boiled in your groin as you watched him. Your thighs clenched, watching his fingers slide over his water slicked skin. You couldn’t help it, but your body felt warm and ached as you stared at the archer in the spraying water. Your hand went down between your thighs and you were not surprised to find the dampness there.

“I want your hands here.” His hand went clumsily up to his chest and down again to his cock. His voice was hoarse as he kept whispering. “I need.” His hips thrust forward in time to his words. “I need...need you here. I need you here.” He touched his stomach. “Need your lips here.” He scooped some water up to splash on his neck and jaw. “Need your mouth here.” His hand drifted back to his cock. “Need...need...need you right here. Soft and wet and warm. Your mouth, your hands, your body.”

Your hand shook as your fingers tasted your juices. Your other hand went to your breast restlessly, shocking you as your nipples puckered tight and sent jolts of pleasure to your core. Your eyes were riveted to him as his hands rubbed his muscular chest. He whispered “need” again, the sound bouncing over the tiles and you shook as you put your fingers against your tongue timidly, tasting the thick tang.

“I need your beautiful mouth. Your perfect sounds—all of you.” His hips thrust stiffly forward and back, his cock sliding into his fist. The bright red head slid out over his thumb and back in to his fist as his scowled with his head back against the tiles. “I want. Want?” He groaned. “Not want—I need.... Need. Need. Need.”

Your hand crept again between your legs, digging into your clothes until you could slide a desperate finger into your sopping core. Your fingers were drenched in your own slick as you tried to ease the ache there. He was chanting your name, the water pouring over his skin and dripping into puddles at his feet. You slid two fingers inside as deeply as you could, as quietly as you could for wild dragons of the mountains were known to disappear if startled.

He stepped forward deeper into the spray as both hands went to the hard cock and began caressing it. It was a desperate caress, a hopeless touch. His words slurred in the shower as he went faster and faster. 

He put one hand on the wall in front of him, leaning forward slightly. The water pelted his muscular back like a storm as his hand kept sliding forward and back. His face was desperate, weary, and he kept chanting your name. Your fingers ground against your clit as you watched him in his desperate beauty looking like a weary samurai trying to find his way in the rain.

Unexpectedly, he growled and pushed into his clumsy fist one more time. Thick white sprayed out over his fist before washing away like tears. He let out one last whine and sagged against the wall, the seed vanishing down the drain as he sighed your name one more time.

It sent a thrill through you, shivering down your spine. Your fingers were suddenly not enough and your climax threatened to choke you. There was almost silence except for the running water and a last, almost silent whisper of your name. Your knees almost buckled, your veins on fire.

He stayed like that for some minutes, still and beautiful as a statue, before rising to turn off the water. For a blinding moment, he was at peace and your barely got your hands out of your clothes to take a step towards him.

Hanzo unsteadily reached to grab a towel and then it was gone. He scowled again as his unsteady hands dropped the fuzzy towel. He flinched as he was forced to bend to fetch it, only to have it slide out of his hands aching again. Enraged, he kicked the fabric to lift it into the air and snag it in a claw-like grip with a growl.

That forced a sound out of you. He straightened, startled and fumbled with a drawer under his sink. He yanked out a small gun and pointed it at you, which forced another small sound from your lips.

“I will not hesitate to kill you, whoever you are,” he barked at the shadow you were standing in, leveling out the weapon. It shook slightly, but you did not even notice that as you stared down the barrel.

“No, please!” you whimpered. “It’s just me.”

Hanzo did not appear to be satisfied and the gun cocked in the suddenly silent apartment. “Come into the light.”

You did, hesitantly, holding up your hands and your bag. He was unwavering, the barrel pointed between your eyes. You swallowed heavily, taking the last step into the light. Only when he saw your face did he lower the weapon to set it on the edge of the sink and his face fell. You swallowed nervously as his whole form curled into a scowling fury.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” His voice was harsh and angry. “Why have you come to me?”

“I...,” you started with a flush. “I...missed you.”

He scowled at you, aggressively baring his teeth. “Have you?” You nodded, only to have him throw his hands in your face. “Have you missed such weakness?”

“You are not weak,” you replied hoarsely.

He held up his hands again, almost slapping you. “What is this then?! Strength?” Restlessly, he picked up the mechanical support and bandaged up his hand again. Without looking back at you, he hissed, “There is nothing for you here. I cannot help you further.” Clumsily, he picked up the towel to wrap it around his hips. “I can only wish you well and continued success.”

He shouldered past you towards the small sitting area. The layout of his apartment was the same as yours and the same as every other agent on base. You followed him silently, dropping your small bag on the floor. He picked up a thin robe the color of night with the outlines of cranes embroidered on the shoulders and slid it on, pulling his sopping hair out of the collar.

Turning back to you, he snapped, “What are you still doing here?”

“I missed you,” you whimpered. “I wanted to...to—.”

“To what?” he interrupted with a growl. “To stare at me?”

“No! To see that you are all right,” you puffed. “I missed you. I missed being on your team.”

He flopped down on one of the standard-issue chairs. “Have you really?” He snorted, looking aside. “You have a...a...a thing for those who are broken?” He scowled at you, lewdly leaning back so that the robe flapped open to show his limp cock in his lap. “Is that why you are here? Why you are so friendly with my brother?”

“No!” Your fists balled up at your side. “I have told you that there is nothing between me and your brother.”

“He certainly came to your defense quickly enough,” Hanzo hissed, taking his cock into his hand lewdly with the clear intent to disgust you. “He made no effort to hide that he was listening or that he gave you permission to delve into my private affairs.” He grinned in a dark and hollow way that did not show any happiness. “You must truly be shattered to only come to those who are broken.”

You fidgeted slightly as he scowled again. His voice was furred and harsh. “You are a wicked tease.” He threw up his hands, showing you the red scratches and bruises. “You have no idea what I am facing and you still break into my apartments.” He growled sourly. “You tease me—torment me—with what is gone.”

“I...I didn’t mean to!” Your cheeks went red. “I wanted...to...to support you.”

“You want to pity me,” he snarled. “You want to pat my head and tell me that it will all be okay.” He waved towards the door. “You can go out the way you came in.”

“No!” Tears formed in your eyes. “This is what...what people do! They support each other in bad times.”

“You are living in a dream world,” he snapped back. “This is no ‘bad time’. This is the end.” His voice rose to a roar. “There is no good ending, nothing is left.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Genji was there—so you probably know all of the gory details.” He shrugged, the loose fabric of his robe sliding backward off his shoulder. Your eyes flicked to the dark outline of the dragon’s tail and he snorted again. “So tell me why you are truly here.”

“I am here...for you, Hanzo,” you whispered. Hopelessness made your voice sound small. “For...for us.”

“So you are a loyal pet. You come back like a dog to wait for what will never again happen.” You pulled back, at last offended and he scowled. “So I release you. Go away. Go find Genji if you need a fuck that badly. I am sure that as close as you two are, he will oblige.”

You gasped, and felt everything inside you curl up as sobs started to clog your throat. “B-b-but I d-d-don’t w-w-want Genji.” Your voice went into a soft whimper. “I-I-I never d-d-did!” You gulped in an unsteady breath. “I-I-I...I wanted my...m-m-my master!” 

His face eased, his expression softening as he nodded to himself. He looked up at you with an expression of patience and careful instruction. “Shojo, there is no longer an us.” He folded the robe back over himself. He beckoned you over stiffly, nodding solemnly when you stood in front of him. Taking one of your hands, he sat up straighter and put his bandaged hand into yours. “There can no longer be an us. Not now....”

You stared stupidly at the bandaged hand in yours. He took your other hand and pressed your fingers against the bandages, against the thinly covered device. “I am no longer able to assume my full duties because I can no longer wield a weapon. I barely have a place here at all—at most I can spend a few hours writing reports and signing papers.”

“There must be something,” you insisted softly, caressing the spine of the device and feeling suddenly cold and distant as though you had walked miles in the snow. “Physical therapy or something.”

He laughed bitterly. “The doctors have put me on a regimen, of course. And muttered their spells to determine that I have better than even odds of eventually having at least most of the function in my hands back.”

You knelt in front of him, which made him smile sadly, and whispered, “But there is a chance?”

“Shojo, do you know what happened?” His voice was deep and solemn. “Has Genji not told you already?”

You shook your head. “J-j-just a little about the attack. Ever...ever since you took me off the contact list, I haven’t heard anything...a-a-about your health.”

He caressed your hands gently. “They were going to break bones and keep killing until Overwatch showed up. And it became a game for them until they grew bored.”

“But...now what?” You shook your head to clear it. “There’s nothing that can’t be fixed, right?”

He laughed darkly. Gingerly, he straightened his fingers slightly, his mouth curving bitterly as his hand shook. “There...there will be many weeks of healing—if it can be healed at all.” His face was bitter as he let one finger graze your hair. “Even Dr. Ziegler’s orthopedic specialist does not know if I will ever be whole again. There may never be a day that dawns that I can again draw a bow.”

You gasped, your mind suddenly blank and frozen. What would he do? You shuddered.

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles as he stood. “But this is my darkness alone to bear.” Hanzo smiled down at you. “Your future is bright ahead of you. Hana is a good leader and she already speaks well of you. Your team is a good one, with many successful missions ahead of it.

“I chose her team for you because she is similar to you—smiling and filled with light. I was concerned that if I put you with Jesse he would take advantage of you. 76 is an honorable man, but I would not want you to be in his missions because he is constantly in the most dangerous of places. Reinhardt would protect you, but he is in the middle of the most dangerous missions as well. Mercy, Amari—the healers see the worst and I wanted nothing to dim your smile. Genji—I was never going to put you with someone who might not be considerate of you or that might be angry with me.” He pressed another short kiss to your forehead. “I considered carefully who might be the best fit for you. Who would protect you and work well with you.”

“You make it sound like...like you are leaving.” You frowned as you looked up at him. “That you no longer have hope.”

“I knew that the mission was likely a one-way ticket when I got assigned it. I knew I was lucky to make it back at all. I will do what I can,” Hanzo whispered in return, walking slowly and pulling you with him. “But I cannot offer you a bright future. I cannot offer you even the certainty of remaining with Overwatch, because without my bow, I cannot remain here and will have nothing to offer you.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but instead, he pressed a shaky finger to your lips. “I will not offer you nothing. I have given you my pledge, my word, that I will do whatever it takes to ensure your success. Even if that must now mean that you are on another team where you can succeed rather than on mine—or with me.” He offered you another small sad smile and led you to his door. “So I will be watching from the sidelines and cheering for you, watching you rise like the sun in the east.”

“But—?!”

“But you must be weary,” he interrupted with a sad nod. “And Hana will be expecting you to be at your best.” He offered you a small smile that seemed hollow. “When you offer such a good first impression, the real work begins of maintaining that.”

You were out the door before you knew it. He closed it gently in your face, his face solemn and sad and you stared blankly at the door. Then there was the loud clack of the lock sliding.


	20. Chapter 20

He did not appear the next day at all. Nor the next. You asked Hana, who only shrugged her shoulders. Genji glowered, his face in a scowl as he only muttered a list of potent alcohols. When you went to his apartment on the third day, it was locked and you practically choked on the alcohol fumes in the hallway. When you knocked on the door, there was nothing. You knocked again and there was only a crash of glass and a wordless roar before silence again.

For two more days, you left it at that. Obviously, things had been tense and you reasoned that perhaps it was a temporary bad mood. The archer had been through hell and needed time to recover. So, you kept going to Ichi and Ni, kept trying to keep up with Genji and see what intelligence you could get.

Finally, you cornered Genji at his game with Jesse. Jesse scowled playfully as you came in. “Well if it isn’t our personal game crasher. She gonna take you away again, boy?”

Genji looked up at you patiently before looking at his hand again. “I was going to fold anyway.” He tossed his cards in the middle of the table. “I suppose you want me to open the door for you again?”

You shook your head. “No...just some information.” You pulled out a chair. “Like how is your brother? Is he...is he getting better?”

Genji shrugged, picking up a plastic chip to roll between his fingers. “So why do you want to know?”

“Is he getting better?” You wrung your hands nervously. “Is he going to his therapy and stuff?” Genji shook his head with a shrug. You cocked your head and sighed.. “How bad is the damage?”

Genji looked at you seriously—his bare face deadly serious. “Has he told you what happened?” You shook your head. “Those bastards did a real number on him. They jumped on him and took him down, gave him some drugs and then laid his hand out and began smashing his fingers with the butt of a laser rifle.”

You gasped in horror, but the cyborg was not done. “He kept telling them that he was visiting his aunt, that he didn’t want them to harm the child they had picked out. So they tortured him instead. They filmed it all, especially when he was getting each finger smashed. When his right hand was ruined, they began to attack his back, his shoulders—everything—and laughed as he was hit with pistol butts, rifle butts and brass knuckles. They kept beating him and it took everything that our techs’ had to keep it from spilling to the news.”

“But...his hand—?”

“His right hand was a bloody pulp. Even when he was letting us into the train, even when he was setting the emergency brake and even when he was barricading the passengers in the front cars—he was fighting to keep them safe.”

You let the frustrated tears run down your cheeks. Jesse snorted, but offered you a handkerchief along with his sympathetic smile. You shook, trembling as your brain was caught on a loop of images of faceless terrorists pummeling Hanzo. The handkerchief was quickly soaked with your tears as you sobbed into it, leaning on the green felt covered table.

“Now, darlin’, Han’s a pretty tough cookie,” Jesse muttered. “He’ll pull through.”

“No,” Genji whispered. “He’s got to do his therapy, his exercises.” You looked up at the cyborg. “He resents that he is no longer master of his fate, that he has to follow another’s orders.”

Jesse coughed heavily, obviously hiding a laugh. “Well, that does sound like him.”

The ninja shrugged. “He has always been in charge, in control. Ever since he was young, he knew he was going to be in charge of the clan, of the family, of everything. He resents having to take the medicines—particularly the pain medicines—having to learn to do everything again.

“It has made him face mortality, that he, too, can be hurt and possibly die. Hanzo feels like he has lost everything—his team, his family, his position. He feels like there is nothing that he can do anymore and that he is alone.” You shuddered angrily, your fists suddenly tight. “What’s worse, he feels that he deserves it because he is worthless now—a helpless cripple.”

Your hands were in desperate fists, one clenched around the red and white checked handkerchief. “He is not!” You were practically shouting and pounded the table. Jesse looked up in surprise, his cigarillo almost dropping out of his mouth as he scrambled to catch the bouncing plastic chips. “He will be back to full strength soon and—and—and—!”

Genji watched idly as his careful stacks spilled to the floor. “How interesting that you think so.”

You glared at them both, your lips pressed together angrily. “I do not see the humor in this.”

Genji only smiled. “You know, it would be...so interesting if he thought that he had to succeed for someone.” You glared at the younger Shimada brother. “I mean...no one can stop someone if they happen to simply be in the room when he is scheduled, right?”

“Mercy won’t let me,” you pouted. “I’ve already asked.”

Genji gave you a slow, evil smile. “Let me take care of that.” He grinned. “Would you care to spar a bit with me?”


	21. Chapter 21

The next day, you followed Genji to the medical wing. He was confidently breezed past the hospital staff, cradling you as you limped along beside him. He bent and whispered in your ear, “Hey—not so dramatic. You have to be believable.”

You whimpered, curling a bit as a nurse breezed past. Your arms were around the livid bruise at your stomach. Genji had wrapped one of your hands in a long, white bandage and your arms were littered with small bruises. None of them were actually painful—well, maybe your stomach was sore after doing those 259 crunches with Genji—but most of them were very delicately applied makeup and some fingertip jabs that had left small red marks. He had been very careful with your wrist too—stretching it slowly back and forth until he was able to hyper-extend it just barely enough to make it swell a bit. All in all, you were out of your favorite purple eyeshadow but looked like you had gone a few rounds with a champ.

Or two—because you swore never to tell anyone that Jesse knew as much about makeup as he did about shooting the Peacekeeper.

Mercy was hurried and busy, as usual. Genji spun her such a ridiculous story about how you and he had been sparring and—truly!—he hadn’t realized how much pressure he was using. Perhaps there was something wrong with his sensor array in his hands after the last mission? The Swiss doctor gave him an impatient smile and agreed that she would give him a full workup if he would kindly wait for her.

Of course, a gentleman never goes before a lady—and Genji insisted that you be examined first. He had gone over it carefully with you—to gasp and how to flinch convincingly when she prodded your wrist. You had practiced it at the card table about a hundred times—with the cowboy and the cyborg giggling at your theatrics.

You were squirming as the doctor cradled your “injured” wrist when Hanzo came in, grunting as he tried to offer a supportive shoulder to the cowboy. You blinked in surprise at the huge black eye that the cowboy had, as well as the ridiculous bandana around his hand. He caterwauled that he had cut himself, which caused Hanzo to simply roll his eyes in frustration.

Genji did not appear surprised in the least, only nodded at the older brother as he sat next to you. You almost forgot to gasp as Mercy let go of your hand to go see what was wrong with Jesse. An assistant sat down next to you, nonplussed as Genji smirked winningly at her and simply took him at his word that he knew what your injuries were as she flirted at the whimpering cowboy.

“Jesse McCree—what happened this time?” Mercy asked.

Hanzo shrugged as he let go of the larger man. He glanced at his brother and sat alone at a table. If he noticed you as you sat there, he gave no sign as he looked up at the wall clock with bloodshot eyes and a resigned expression.

“Mr. Shimada,” Mercy nodded as she tried to pry the cowboy’s hand open to look at his wound. “You’re available at last.” He had the grace to at least look a little abashed. “The therapist will be with you in a moment.”

He nodded, staring glumly down at his half-curled fingers. He slowly unwrapped his hand and set the bandage and the device on the table. Finally, he glanced up at you. You thought maybe you saw a flicker of something in his eyes and you did not need Genji to remind you to shiver as his gaze flickered between you. “What are you doing here?”

Genji smiled at the assistant without looking at Hanzo. “She was injured, anija.”

Hanzo’s face tightened and anger flushed his cheeks. Anyone could see that he was livid and everyone seemed to hold their breath as the archer let out a low growl. “I can see that,” he gritted out. He gave you a breathless look. “How were you injured?”

You glanced down, your face red. You knew you were not seriously injured but if you admitted to that, Mercy’s staff would show you the door. “I...I went to...to—.”

“She stopped to spar with me,” Genji rattled off with such an honest tone that you almost believed the lie. “I was missing the second best sparring partner.” Hanzo growled low in his throat, but said nothing. The cyborg shrugged, as though missing the sound entirely. “I guess my pressure sensors went out of whack from that mission.”

Hanzo slammed his fist down on the table and then winced with a gasp. “What are you thinking—to knowingly put another in danger like that?! And to do that to her, of all people?” Standing and slowly gathering all of his bandages and accoutrements, he came to your table and sat down. “What could you be thinking, otouto?”

Genji wisely slid backwards. “I was thinking about training and discipline,” he said in a light, teasing tone. “Just like my anija advised.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes with an impatient sigh. “Always with the excuses, Genji. And now another is hurt because of your carelessness.” He glared at you. “I told you that he...would not care for you.” Your eyes filled with tears as he slowly reached for your hand. Instantly, the archer’s face eased and he brought a rough thumb up to clumsily brush one of the drops from your cheeks. “It will be fine.”

You nodded blindly at him. “I know.”

He sighed, cradling your hand in his injured ones. Painfully, he forced his fingers to straighten and obey as they curled lightly around your wrist. “Let me look, hime.” He gave you a gruff smile. “I know I am not so skilled, but I would like to know....”

You bit your tongue to avoid saying the obvious. With slow and unsteady fingers, he unthreaded the long bandage and stared at your wrist. “It does not appear too bad,” he said softly. “Perhaps you were lucky and only have a slight strain.”

The archer’s deft touch gave you a quiet thrill. “I guess it’s just a strain.”

He looked up from your wrist towards you, catching your eyes. “You should still have a professional look at it.” You nodded. “I’ve seen...worse. I think that you should have someone take a look at all your injuries.”

“Mr. Shimada?” A nervous, older woman looked at him with a pile of papers in a manila folder. “It’s time for your session....”

He nodded without looking up. “In a moment.” He palmed your hand, gently bending it slightly and every nerve focused on your reaction. “Have you seen Mercy?”

You shook your head. Mercy was still busy with a very noisy and touchy cowboy who was deliberately mewling and cringing like a wet cat. She had quite rightly assumed that you were not a serious case and quite wrongly assumed that the wet red handkerchief meant that Jesse had a more serious injury. That the handkerchief was covered only slightly with his blood and more covered with a thick mixture of colors and dyes was not something anyone mentioned and why Jesse kept his huge hand clamped in a fist.

Hanzo sighed, glancing between his hands and yours. It was a futile thing to try to massage your sore muscles, to try to do more than this light and crippled grip. Finally, he said, “Keep it wrapped and put some ice on it.” He glanced up at you with a frown. “I...I could show you...tell you how best to do it.”

You nodded eagerly, biting your lip. He pointed and explained the exotic way he thought best—around your wrist and the base of each of your fingers. Finally, you looked up at him. “Th-thank you.” He jerked slightly, looking at your face as you looked at him. “I would like...I appreciate that.”

He gave you the smallest nod. “Can you wait until I am done here? I—,” he stuttered softly with a flush. “I do not usually last long.”

“I will wait for you,” you whispered.

He grinned sadly at you, something that made Genji smirk and say something that you both ignored. He made sure you were seated comfortably and introduced you to the therapist, who finally joined you at the table.

“Sir...if we could try squeezing the therapy ball again,” the woman said, handing him a small red ball. Hanzo grunted and took the ball, wrapping his fingers around it. “Just a little and it will strengthen your hand.”

He nodded blandly as he glowered at the ball, his fingers trembling around it. He knew that he was supposed to squeeze it, to grow stronger. But nothing seemed to make a difference to his aching joints—not alcohol or abstinence or whatever potions and pills Mercy gave him. So, he squeezed lightly with an indifferent air.

You watched him for a moment. You had thought long and hard about what you wanted to say or do as Jesse had brushed on the makeup. The indomitable Hanzo had given up and was only going through the motions without hope or spirit. Finally, you leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. “Would you squeeze me like that?”

He gasped and unconsciously his hand gripped the ball hard enough to make his knuckles pale. The therapist nodded slowly and made some comment that neither of you heard. His eyes blazed into yours.

You turned in your seat to face him. Genji’s head nodded silently and he gave you a thumbs up before ducking out of the room. You vaguely heard the woman with you both say, “You—you can release it now.”

He flushed and did finally release it. No sooner did he release it, than the therapist tried again to assert control again to try again. You leaned over to him, whispering in his ear. “Squeezing my breast like that,” you hissed. “...Master?”

His hands shook as he squeezed again. All of the blood rushed in his veins as you whispered such sinful things in his ear. The pain and stiffness was far from his mind as he pictured wrapping his big hands around your breasts.

The therapist kept up with her prompting, flushing and smirking knowingly at you both. This was far better than any of her other sessions with the archer. She had no problem with allowing such X-rated persuasions and incentives—whatever would work to get the big man to keep working with his hands since all of her browbeating and begging and coaxing had failed.

Ten minutes later, after she heard more whispered suggestions made her turn red than she had ever heard before, she finally said, “If you could spread your fingers, sir.”

Hanzo growled in your ear as he forced himself to release the ball. His blood buzzed in his ears. How was he to spread his fingers when he only wanted to grip?

You had warmed to your game. Jesse’s howls had become muted minutes ago as Mercy sent him away with a scolding that the pinprick he had on his palm was not serious. Genji had long since disappeared and the little area had been largely deserted as the medical staff went to buzz around someone else.

He looked at you with a wolffish smile and leaned over to whisper. “And now what, hime?”

You glanced at the therapist whose eyes were wide and eager to see what you were going to do. You gave her a half smirk and scooted closer. He grinned as you leaned in to whisper, “Spread your fingers on my thighs. Over my stomach.”

He did reach for you, blind to everything as your words captured his mind. His fingers spread wider and then gradually wider. He sighed as you went to sit on the table in front of him and pull his hands to your waist.

“Like that,” the therapist whispered bashfully. Her eyes were wide and interested at the sensual exchange going on as though she was not there. “Just like that.”

He groaned softly, his head bowing to lean gently against your stomach. Pain flickered along his arms as his fingers uncurled softly around you. It was not enough to shape to your skin, your curves and he moaned. “I cannot. I can go no further.”

“It is farther than you have before,” the therapist piped up helpfully. “At least four or five centimeters.”

“You are doing...so wonderful,” you whispered against his hair. “You feel so good.” He looked up at you with a needy expression. You smiled down at him. “Hanzo...you feel wonderful.”

With a shaky breath, he slid his hands closer. Shakily and without any sort of sound, he spread his fingers more widely to curl around the very tops of your hips. “Takara. Ojo. Hime.” He spread whispers against you, only barely not touching you with his lips. “There seems to be nothing I cannot do so long as I have you.”

“I crave you,” you whispered in return.

He groaned, his hands flexing jerkily. “You are a priceless treasure.”

The therapist, red-faced and saucer eyed, cleared her throat. “I think that...that is enough for now.” Her silence stretched into pause. “I will...I will see you...ahh, tomorrow, then?”

Neither of you noticed her swift departure—though you heard a few days afterwards of how she went to find her husband and drug him off the target range to their apartments without a single word of explanation to anyone on his team or to a smirking Reinhardt—as his hands kept rippling to flex and relax around you. You brushed a kiss to his hair. “If I ask you tonight.... If I call you ‘Master’ tonight—shout to the world that you are my master—will you come to me tonight?”

“Tonight?” He breathed the word against you. “Do we need to wait so long?”

His stiff fingers scraped clumsily against your skin and you whined in embarrassment as some of Jesse’s careful application of makeup smeared. He smirked as he smeared another painted bruise. “Did you do this...? For me?”

You nodded, small tears trickling down your cheeks. You brushed angrily at them. “Jesse...he did it.” You looked up at him with a feeling of brief panic. “But he said never to tell anyone that he did makeup.”

Hanzo laughed softly at that. “Would this be the same Jesse McCree that does the makeup for us when we go undercover?”

You gaped at him. “Wh-what?”

He gave you a sheepish grin and touched his scruffy head. “Who did you think gave me my transformation?” He sighed and bent his head with a weary and desperate expression. “But I cannot come to you with nothing.”

You kissed his hair again. “You come to me with the greatest gift of all—yourself.”

He took in a breath so deep that his shoulders shook with it. “No.”

“No?!”

“Not now.” He gave you a look that seemed to beg for your understanding. “When we have seen how far I can get.” He held up his hands. “I will not come to you with nothing, in a mess, and without prospects.”

“Come tonight,” you whispered.

He gave you a smirk, but said nothing. He did appear in the cafeteria for dinner, eating the not terrible grilled salmon, broccoli and brown rice with you at his normal table. There were whispers, people chuckling and tittering at the stern faced man sitting with you as a less-than-likely companion. You both ate without tasting much and then went to walk the labyrinth, feeding the koi as they raced back and forth between you.

You stopped counting the days. He left you each evening, telling you that he would not come to you with nothing, but would reappear each morning to take you to breakfast. He still dressed formally—a dark hakama and yukata and crisply folded obi—as he escorted you. Hana was still the head of your team, but she had no objections to the Japanese man helping her with the sparring training with his slow and precise explanations, which you hoped gave him a better sense of purpose.

He told you not to attend his therapy sessions at all. But twice or three times, the therapist would decide he was not working hard enough and Genji and Jesse would sneak you in anyway. Your soft whispers and encouragements gave him the push he needed to keep driving through the exercises. And afterwards, he would spend hours telling you exactly what he would do to you when he was whole again as Ichi and Ni swam in their careless circles. 

You wept for joy several weeks later when he finally was able to cup your hips in his hands and pull you against his raging cock under his silk hakama. You shivered, grinding against him, your tears on his lapels glistening like diamonds. “Please.... Please, Master. Tonight.”

“I cannot come to you with nothing,” he whispered.

“You are the most important thing,” you replied, brushing your tears off of his formal clothing. His fingers flexed slowly. “You are my...my master.”

“I will not have anything,” he said harshly.

“I will have you,” you whispered.

“My impatient beauty.” He gave you a shy grin. “I will come to you tonight.”

That night he finally came to your apartment. You both drank hot green tea after you went to feed the koi for the final time that day and went back to your apartment to watch television. Nothing was on except for an old movie remake from 2050 about a small, scrappy, New York boxer who defeated a huge Russian fighter which made you both laugh. You laid comfortably against him, sipping the tea as he stretched out in the corner of your couch. Afterwards, he tucked you in bed and slid in behind you to sleep.


	22. Chapter 22

Hanzo practically didn’t sleep—didn’t want to sleep that night. It was hard enough to come to your apartment at all without knowing that he would get better. In fits and spurts, he seemed to gradually be healing and Mercy had finally removed the Omnic support device, but it could not come fast enough. He had called you impatient, but he was the one who could not wait.

You rested in his arms, sleepy and relaxed and still, and he refused to move even though his arms screamed for it. He still couldn’t believe that you would settle for him. You were light and sunshine and laughter and he kept worrying that if he closed his eyes, you would be gone like a forest kami. What had he done as a yakuza, as an agent, as a man, to ever deserve to have such a blessing as you in his arms? What good deeds did he ever do to have you show up at his sessions like a surprise every so often and whisper such soft sensual things in his ears that made his hands move and flex of their own accord beyond what he thought he could do?

His cock was hard against your scantily covered, plush bottom and rested in the cleavage between the soft cheeks. You smelled so good, like sweetness and honey, as your hair tickled his skin. Your eyes were like wide pools, soft and warm as they looked at him with such innocent trust. You rocked gently against him in your sleep, responsive even in your deep dreaming state to what he wanted.

Wanted? Wanted was too insipid a word. Needed. Craved. Desired. Words of men and dragons alike paled in comparison to the feeling of how much he needed you. It would be like saying that the sun was a light or the stars were distant—woefully inadequate to describe it. There were no words to describe how desperately he needed you.

His coarse fingertips grazed your arm and you shivered. He hoped and prayed it was with as much delight as he had in touching you. He hoped to give you pleasure—pleasant dreams. He hoped against all hope to be as good for you as you were for him.

You sighed in your sleep, muttering something he could not hear. “Shhh,” he whispered, brushing your hair. “Sleep peacefully.”

You muttered again, twisting in the sheets. He loosened his grip, assumed you needed to roll or stretch. Your lips pursed slightly as you went still again. Lazily, he smirked as you nuzzled him and let out a sleepy sigh. It made him harder, his entire body throbbing as you stilled and settled again. Without effort, he let his mind wander to how he wanted to have you first as sort of a mental game where you were the greatest of prizes.

He wanted you here, of course. He wanted you on your back here on your bed, your legs locked around him and your breathless words demanding more. He wanted to be between your legs, lapping at your sopping core. He wanted you kneeling with your body against the wall so that he could slam into you from behind. He wanted you on your belly so that he could grip your ass and see it bounce as he took you gently. He wanted to slam into your body and hear your every passionate cry like sacred music as your slick wetness dripped to cover his skin.

He wanted you in his room. He wanted you in traditional garb so that he could unwrap the layers of your kimono like unwrapping a candy, like unwrapping an exquisite gift. He wanted to hear your soft panting in time to shamisen music, to pound into you with the rhythm of the taiko drums beating in your ears. He wanted to sway with you to the melody of the shinobue flute in the moonlight. He wanted to smell incense in your hair as it slid across his hands and laid across his lap and your lips puckered around his cock.

He wanted to play with you—sweet, innocent games of pouncing and chasing that become hot and demanding when he captured you. He wanted to wrestle you to the floor, pin you beneath him and feel you arch and wriggle. He wanted to feel your strength as you arched beneath him. He wanted to listen to your feet pounding in his playful chase. He wanted to hear the pant of your breath and taste the sweat as it dripped between your breasts. He wanted to hunt, to capture and then reward you with so much pleasure that your body shook.

He wanted to have you chase him. He wanted to feel the adrenaline rush of plotting his skills against yours—his silence to your wit. He wanted to tear through the night, feeling you hot on his trail. He wanted to to be cornered, to feel you stalk him and then to at last the last moment to feel you leap on him. He wanted to feel your lithe body throw him, to sweep his legs out from underneath him and to land on the his back with a thud and then feel you pounce on top of him. He wanted to have his body at your mercy and know that you would have none as you rode his cock with your breasts bouncing and your cries of pleasure ringing in the air.

The shower was a must. He wanted to see you with the water dripping on you and dropping from your lashes, your hair, your nipples and hands. He wanted you on your knees, your mouth open in desperation and your eyes blown wide with your anticipation. He wanted to have your mouth with bright red lipstick stretched around his cock and your hands pressed against the tiled wall as the fingers tangled in your hair pulled you further down on his cock. He wanted to see the red ring around his cock as the water sprayed on his skin, to see his seed spray across your dripping wet face and see the white sliding down your belly and thighs.

He wanted to be in the bathtub with you. He wanted to have the softest of cloths to so that he could slide soap across your skin. He wanted to feel you sigh and sink into his arms, the warmth and water giving you relief from the cares of the day. He wanted soft little games, to press candies and treats in your mouth as you opened further and further up, half floating in the scented water. He wanted to see the reflections of flickering candlelight as you half slept in the warmth of the water and his arms.

He let out a soft sigh, breathing in your scent deep into his lungs. He wanted too much and had wanted too long. His past life as a yakuza had taken him to such places and he had done such things that would make your skin crawl if you ever found out. He had stopped all of it, become as a monk on a mountain as he sought redemption from his sins. He had not heard a single thing but the beat of his duty until he had happened to be at the cafeteria and listened to his brother teasing a fellow agent.

Lust ran through him and he shuddered against your slumbering form. He had not ever thought he would be blessed like this. First, he had been forgiven by his brother. Then he had blessed with a position here at Overwatch when he thought he would have nothing else at all because of his past transgressions drawn on his skin. And now a third blessing had been showered down on him from paradise in the form of a beautiful woman who believed in him even when he could offer nothing.

He could not fathom what had happened in his life that he was here with you.


	23. Chapter 23

The next week his therapist told him to practice just gripping his bow. He nodded and was out on the range within minutes, holding the bow and trying to grip his arrows. He ground his teeth, determined to surprise you as he kept practicing just picking up the tools of his trade. He spent an hour just picking his weapon and arrows up and putting them down to pick them up again. He was as impatient as he had ever accused you of being.

He shivered as he laid behind you that night. His eyes were warm and he smiled as you laid down and pulled the sheets up. He bit his tongue to keep from telling you about holding the bow. It had felt like years since he had picked it up and it literally felt like he was greeting an old and much loved friend. How was he to explain that he had been studying kyudo since he was eight and the bow had been a part of his life, almost a part of his body? How was he to say that he had missed his bow in these weeks? That he had grieved losing his bow almost as much as he had ever grieved Genji?

How was he to say that he had been so close to giving up? That seeing you with those purple bruises and that swollen wrist was the only thing that kept him in the session that day? How was he supposed to give you any explanation or excuse—when he was able to so readily give excuses to himself? And then you had begun with those scandalous whispers that whipped from his ears to his cock and gave him the push to succeed. How were words supposed to tell you that he had actually given up before you appeared?

Now he was so very close to being healed. He could taste it, feel it. Of course it hurt right now—he had not drawn a bow in weeks. But it would not hurt forever. He remembered being eight, nine, and his mother bandaging his fingers but still being excited about going out to pick up his bow again. He was trembling with excitement to go pick it up again tomorrow.

He did not want to tell you just yet. He did not want to spoil it. He was almost afraid that he would jinx it. With all the good fortune that had been poured over him, he was afraid that saying anything would shatter it.

“What are you so smug about?” you asked sleepily that night.

“Smug?” he snorted. “I am never smug.”

Yes, he was and he knew it. He could not stop smiling. His cheeks ached with how much he was smiling in the darkness behind you. He knew he was smug. And excited.

“Yes, you are.” You yawned widely, curling up and winding around him. “You are very happy about something.”

“I am always excited to be here with you,” he hedged.

You grunted. “You are very happy about something.” He just hummed. “Okay, Mister I-won’t-say-anything. Whatever you say.”

“I am making progress in my sessions,” he whispered.

You smiled in the dark. Tomorrow was a busy day for you and your team and you were exhausted. “I’m glad.” You yawned again. “Is there an ETA?”

“To picking up my bow again?” He grinned again, biting his tongue. He was bursting to tell you, but he wanted to wait. “Maybe in a few weeks.” He stroked your hair again with a pleased hum. “But you need to rest, my impatient beauty.”

“Impatient?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “You are the least patient person I know, next to Genji.”

You twisted your hips, feeling his hard, hot cock against your butt. “I am impatient? You are not impatient?”

“I am never impatient.” He gave a theatrical sniff. “Patience, endurance, perseverance—these are the hallmarks of ‘shinobi’.”

Your tone said that you did not believe him. “Sure thing, Master.”

“Get some sleep.” He hummed. “Tomorrow is sparring day. And I want you to be ready.”

He was back on the range early the next morning. In the early dawn light, he was picking up the bow, plucking up an arrow and setting it on the string before taking the arrow off and setting everything down and doing it again. He did it again and again and again.

By lunch, he was sweating in the sunlight. There was a buzz in his head and he stared at the strung arrow. It was on impulse—a dangerous and heady impulse—and he drew it back. He was weak in comparison, but he got it to draw enough to whizz down the lane a few yards.

The physical therapy session went quickly as he browbeat her to give him ways to get stronger. He snuck around, doing planks and pushups and driving himself at the range. While you were in meetings and doing your technology training, he was getting stronger and more flexible. He spent hours on the range, firing first a few yards, then to a few more.

You knew he was getting better. He couldn’t hide that well—not when his back was straighter and his lips kept curling when he thought you weren’t looking. You noticed that he had a tube of bloodworms one night as you fed Ichi and Ni and Hanzo smiled as they chased the treats. You simply nodded when he said that there was nothing to celebrate, even when he was laughing at the koi and smiling at you. He let you stew, let you wonder, though.


	24. Chapter 24

You were sitting at your corner table—your “usual” table, now—staring at your chicken wrap and baked chips. Hanzo hadn’t eaten lunch with you in more than a week. He claimed—repeatedly—that it was because his therapy was moved to that time, but that didn’t feel like the right reason. He had been dodgy and edgy the past week at least, jittery with some excitement or something that he refused to name. Instead, he told you that you were impatient and gave you excuses.

Genji walked to the table and sat down. You smirked at your plate as he said, “Hey, beautiful? Are you lonely?”

“No.”

“Who are you waiting for?”

“Your brother,” you sighed glumly.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Silence,” you giggled. “He’s...way quieter than you—.”

“So are you going to have pity on a poor, lonely ninja—?”

“I did,” you sniffed. “And he’s not here right now.”

“I could get you a few drinks—?”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

“So why are you saying ‘no’, when you know saying ‘yes’ would be more fun?”

“I’m waiting for your brother,” you snickered.

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Silence—he’s way quieter than you.”

Genji laughed. “Are you sure?”

You sniffed. “Absolutely.”

The ninja chuckled. “I’m...I’m...glad for...ah....” He went silent and looked behind you. “Oh.”

His voice trailed off into silence and you shot him an amused glare. Then you were aware that the entire cafeteria was silent. You looked at him and saw him jut his chin over your shoulder. Your eyes went wide in confusion as you stared at him.

A heavy hand dropped to your shoulder and you let out a soft yelp. Whirling, you saw the archer looming above you. His kyudo gi slid beautifully over his body, leaving his tattooed arm bare and gleaming in the light. He had his bow over his shoulder and the quiver strapped to his body. “We are leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” Genji smirked. “We were just—.”

“We were just leaving,” Hanzo grunted, a stern expression on his face.

You glanced at the raw hand on your shoulder and nodded. Standing, you walked with him down the hallway. Excitement bubbled in your belly. The archer had not been out like this since before his last mission. He scowled, guiding you down the hallways without telling you where he was guiding you.

Your mouth went dry as he grabbed your wrist and whirled you around. Your arm whipped and locked behind you and he held your wrist to the small of your back as he pressed you into the wall. You suddenly remembered this place....

“You were late,” he hissed in your ear. “I need to punish you for that.”

You shuddered as he pressed you harder into the cool plaster wall. You nodded quickly, licking your dry lips and trying to moisten your arid throat. “I...I’m sorry.”

“You will be,” he whispered in reply. The bow was set down on the floor and slid against the wall to fall to the floor with a clatter. “And there is no one to save you.”

You bucked against him. His cock was already hard, tenting his loose hakama. It slid against your ass, like it was drawing on your skin. Your free hand dropped to touch his hard thigh.

He slammed his free hand on the wall beside your head. “I am your master.”

You nodded as his breath tickled the skin on the back of your neck. “I...I know.”

He gave you a low laugh and whispered, “You will.” His hand slid from the wall to run across your shoulders and then to curl around your neck. “You will know—you will acknowledge me as your master. I will train you, make you better—and you will belong to me.”

You swallowed heavily. Your throat rippled under his rough fingers and it made it feel even more dangerous. “I...I belong to you.”

“Who am I?” he hissed harshly in your ear.

You whined in frustration. There was a boiling bubble of excitement in your gut and you could feel the slick pooling between your thighs. “P-p-please!”

“Who. Am. I?!”

“You—you’re my master!” Your voice was thin and high and desperate. You slid against his hard body again. He grunted, jerking your twisted arm a bit against your back—not painfully, but enough that you knew you were caught. “You are my master.”

He let a soft chuckle sound in your ear, a satisfied and pleased sound. “That’s better, pet.” His tongue drug along your neck. “Finally, you are getting it.”

You nodded slowly, your mouth open and your eyes blown wide as you looked over your shoulder at him. He grunted, bucking against you one more time so that you felt his throbbing dick against you even harder. “You will walk down the hallway with me. You will say nothing. You will speak to no one.”

You nodded slowly, you cheek dragging against the wall. He pulled you in front of him, your arm hidden against his torso. With a quick dip, he picked up the bow and slung it over his shoulder. Then, with another soft growl in your ear, he began leading you down the hallway. Your cheeks flamed as you saw one or two others walk past, but he only scowled in his legendary way and they backed off, darting past without saying more than a muttered ‘hello’.

He led you to his apartment. He shoved you against the wall as he kicked the door closed. The archer pushed down on your shoulders, nudging the back of your knees with his sock covered foot and having you kneel in front of him. He gave you a wicked look—black and smoldering and hot—as you looked up at him with your mouth open and your eyes blown wide.

“This is how you should look when I come in,” he hissed, sliding the bow off his shoulder and setting it and the quiver aside. Your brows raised in confusion and a light pink stained your cheeks. “Desperate.”

He put both his hands on the wall above you and leaned forward. Your mouth brushed over the hakama automatically, his cock jumping a little. You smirked at him and pushed forward yourself to mouth his hardness through the hakama.

“You are...a most darling pet,” he hissed, his hips curling forward. “A most eager...wanton.”

You looked up at him, admiring the rippling muscles above you. You opened your mouth, lapping at the tent as you stared into his eyes. Gently, he rubbed forward and back, grinning as your spit covered his crotch.

You pulled back for a breath and he stood up. Grinning, he gestured gracefully towards the back of the apartment. His voice dipped to a bone shaking octave. “Crawl, pet.”

You looked up at him and he only raised an eyebrow and nodded. You smirked as you crawled around his furniture to his bedroom. You were almost there when you felt something delicate tickling the back of your neck. You shivered and turned to find him standing over you with an arrow in his hand and stroking the back of your neck with the feathery fletching.

“Crawl, pet,” he grunted with a smirk in his eyes. He tapped the shaft of the arrow on your ass and you began crawling again. “You need to be punished.”

You gasped to see his bedroom. It was unexpectedly luxurious with a heavy four posted bed covered with pillows and luxuriously spun sheets the color of snow. A heavy mahogany cabinet with gold fittings was against one wall that looked like a Chinese antique. A low chest was in another corner with a selection of bows carefully hung on the wall above it. On one wall he had a scroll with an ink character—apparently a character for “dragon” if the exquisitely details dragon head coming out of the thickest stroke was any indication.

On the other wall was a surprisingly colorful poster in a cheap frame that could have come out of some mall bookstore or a fantasy catalogue. A large, sinewy dragon curled around his hoard in a cave. Arrows stuck out of its back as it nuzzled the baby dragons that played in the middle of the pile of gold and treasure and a woman stroked its scales as she gently worked an arrow out.

You were staring at the poster, one hand up a bit when the arrow swatted your butt. You yelped and scooted forward as the archer stalked in behind you. He gave you a sexy smirk and closed the door behind him.

“Now, kitten, you will face your punishment.” You nodded, shivering at his soft tone. “Disrobe.”

You shucked off your clothes as quickly as you could, watching as he simply untied his hair and unwound the long golden cloth. He bent down to pick up your clothes and then set them on top of the tall Chinese cabinet, out of your reach. You stared as he turned to face you again.

He came to stand in front of you. Silently, he brushed your hair aside and slid the warm golden cloth around your neck. You swallowed and whined a little as he knotted the cloth on the back of your neck. “Now pet,” he smiled as he shakily tied the bow. It looked far more flamboyant around your slender neck in the puffy bow. “You are going to be punished.” Another whine and he stroked your skin softly. “Then we will see what happens.

“You are a beautiful pet, for all that you need to learn a few things.” He smiled and seemed to purr. “You will learn to pleasure me. You will learn to obey me and that obedience is rewarded and disobedience will be punished.” His rough thumb stroked your lip. “You will learn that I am your master.”

He pushed and you found yourself sucking his thumb, running your tongue along the callous and watching as his eyes flared. He smiled and nodded, purring again as you suckled on it again. “Now up on the bed, hands out.”

You nodded and climbed onto the bed, knocking a few pillows aside as you scrambled. By the time that you had your hands out, he had a long scarf in his hands. Without a word, he wrapped it around your wrists and then around a post. Shakily, you watched him as he tugged the knots, nodding to make sure that they were steady, strong and didn’t slip.

“You have tormented me,” he whispered, his empty hand stroking up and down your skin as you twisted in the scarf tie. “You have wickedly teased and tormented me, haven’t you pet?” You looked up at him with eyes wide. “A wicked, wicked thing for a pet to do.”

He drug the feathery edge of the arrow along your skin, tickling your nipples as they tightened. He kept up the sensual torment, letting the arrow kiss your nipples, breasts, and thighs. You let out a whine, your legs opening up shyly only to clench as he slid the tip to your nether lips.

“You have been a most wicked pet,” he said. “So you must face your punishment. Turn over.”

You rolled to your stomach with limbs that were shaking uncertainly. He began sliding the feathery fletching along your shoulders and down to your hips. You whimpered as your skin prickled. You let out a whine that was cut short when his large hand came down to cover the small of your back as the arrow came back up to the base of the bow at your neck.

“Open up your mouth, pet,” he ordered softly.

You did and yelped as he slid the shaft between your teeth. “Hold your head up,” he whispered, caressing your cheek. “I will be most upset if you damage my arrow.”

You tried to nod, feeling clumsily hampered by the arrow in your mouth. Your tongue flinched back from the green and wooden taste of the bamboo. You slurped in to try to swallow and turned your head a bit to see if you could find the ends of the arrow. The feathers were over the pillows on one side and the triangular arrowhead over the others. The arrow kept your head up as the ends hit pillows on either side of you.

“Perfection,” he smirked. “Now for your punishment.”

His hand pulled back and smacked your cheek. You yelped and found that you couldn’t arch any other way. He only laughed and stroked the slightly pink skin. “I think that perhaps you need to be raised up a bit.”

He stuffed one of the pillows you had kicked to the floor under your hips. It arched your back to the perfect angle, pushing your cheeks up to him. He stroked you again, dragging a finger down between your cheeks. “I see that perfection can be improved upon.” You jerked slightly. “Now, pet. I will give you five strokes for each time that you teased me....” Your eyes widened as you tried to look at him desperately. “I think that you came to my sessions four times—does that sound right?”

You kind of shook your head. Twenty spanks sounded like a lot and you could not move. His voice dipped low as he pulled back. “Since your mouth is...ah, occupied, I will count for you.”

“One!” The wide hand came down and you yelped at the sharp blow. He chuckled and paddled you again and again. “Two...three...four...five.”

Suddenly his hand came back and gently slid over the pink skin. “That is one session.” He put his hand underneath you and squeezed your breast. “And this is how I want to squeeze your breast, pet.”

You heard him rustling behind you and he came up to you again. “Now, I believe that I owe you some more.” He paddled you another five times, smirking as you wriggled underneath his hand. Just like the last time, he stopped to stroke you, to squeeze your breast and, at last, to drop a soft kiss to your shoulder. “So good pet.”

He traced idle patterns on your skin. “Halfway through, koneko.” He reached for the arrow and tugged gently until you released it. “Good girl.”

You clenched up, even gritting your teeth as you braced to feel another smack. Instead, you heard him say “One” and then felt the feathers draw a line across the stinging skin. Your eyes popped open in time to hear him say “Two” and draw another delicate line over your hips. The delicate stroke made you shiver and liquid pool in your core. “Three” and the arrow stroked slowly from the cleavage of your ass up to your waist. “Four” and the stroke swirled around one hip. He paused long enough to slide a thick finger against your slit and let out a pleased hum. “Five” and the arrow shaft slid against your slit, the feathers dragging against your slick.

“Precious little pet, you have made a mess of my arrow.” He put the glistening shaft in front of your mouth. “Lick it—clean it up for me.”

Your tongue stroked up and down the shaft. His free hand cupped your chin, holding your head arched up again. Your head bobbed slightly as your tongue wrapped around it. He pulled it away with a hum and spread your legs. One finger swirled right at your entrance.

“Oh...jeez,” you sighed as he teased you. Now he slid two fingertips along your slit. “I...I....”

“You should be reflecting on your penitence,” he whispered softy. His pinky dipped into your core. His finger were sticky with your slick. “Are you properly apologetic? Properly chastened?”

You nodded eagerly, spreading your legs as he slid between them. His thick cock was hard and hot and slid right along your slit. “I want—.”

“Wait a moment,” he whispered as he slid the half open top off and let it fall. The thick material flopped against your hips and back. With a slow move, he drug the fabric off to the side, letting you feel every fiber as it slid. Then he bent over you, his muscular chest skin to skin with your back. One hand held the bow at your neck as his lips brushed your shoulder and his thick cock bucking against your core. “What is it you want?”

“I want you,” you whispered in return.

“So eager,” he purred. “Turn over pet.”


	25. Chapter 25

You wriggled and turned over, spreading your legs around him again. His eyes were dark and hooded and he smiled as you laid there. Slowly, he pressed a kiss at the base of your neck. His fingertips stroked your nipples until they were tight and sensitive. You shivered again, arching your breasts into his fingers.

He kissed your lips, suckling your bottom lip into his mouth before nipping it. At your soft cry, he grinned, holding your lip in his teeth. The shivering in your skin sank into you, making you twitch with the lightning along your nerves. A thick finger slid deep into your core, curling and uncurling and scraping the sweet spot that made you see stars.

You bucked up against his finger with a whine as he released your swollen lip. He slid in another finger, smiling as you twisted with the burning stretch. Scissoring his fingers, he bent to suckle your breast. You gasped, bucking up against him as he gently pulsed his lips around your nipples.

He let go of your glistening nipple with a pop and twisted his wrist so that his fingers scraped in your core. You thrust your hips against his fingers desperately. “Please...please.”

“Are you so desperate pet?” He lapped at both your nipples and let his thumb graze the small, tight pearl of your clit. “Are you?”

You nodded with another gasp. Then you let out a whine as he pulled back to lean down between your legs. You tilted your head up to see him staring at you from between your legs, his black and gray hair spread over his shoulders. His eyes were mischievous as they bored into yours.

His voice was furred and deep as he murmured against your slit, “Now I want you to be silent—except to beg for my cock.” His tongue ground against your core, smearing your juices over you. “And you will beg for my cock.”

“I want you now,” you whimpered.

He nipped the tender skin of your inner thigh. “No, pet. No speaking unless you are begging for my cock.” His tongue dove into your core, making you whine as pleasure drowned you. “And you will beg.”

His fingers plunged back into you, expertly hitting that sweet spot again. You gasped as his lips latched onto your clit. He wrung a sharp cry from you as his tongue rubbed the bundle of nerves and your pussy clenched around his fingers. Slowly he began to slide in and out as his tongue kept tormenting you. You were shaking and wordless sobs were spilling out of your lips as you felt your climax rising uncontrollably.

Then he stopped, pulling back and releasing you. You screamed as the climax tickled the edges of your nerves before pulling back. He pressed his finger against your swollen clit—just enough to feel it but not so much that it brought you any relief.

Your hands were in fists, tugging futilely at the scarf and you felt tears in your eyes as your climax seemed to flow away from you. “Why?!”

He gave you a slow smile and picked up a piece of smooth leather. Folding it over, he pressed his thumb against your lower lip. Instinctively, your mouth opened to wrap around his sticky fingers and suck on the tangy slick that covered them. He pushed his covered cock gently against your aching core, smirking as you bucked up to take more of his fingers in your mouth.

With a deft move, he slid the leather into your mouth as his fingers slid out. Your eyes bugged open as you realized that you had been tricked, but you couldn’t spit it out. Instead, your teeth clenched down on it as his fingers went back to tickle your bud and his mouth went to rain kisses on your breasts.

His fingers scissored you and you clenched tightly, your body curling as his fingers stretched your core. The stretch made you burn inwardly, buck against him as you tried to get him to go just a little harder. Your climax crept up on you again, your eyes tearing up as you rolled your hips against his fingers.

Except he was pulling back again, his fingers lighter and gentler as one massive hand pressed down on your hips. You squealed against the gag, shaking your head as he pulled back again. You were so close to your climax and he denied you again.

“Hmm,” he murmured, standing up. “You need to learn to beg.” He grinned thoughtfully and reached to one side to pick up a small, red oval. He squeezed it and you heard a buzzing start up. “It is good that I am prepared to teach you.”

The buzzing vibrator slid against your core, dragging up from your moist cunt to your aching pip. You yelped as the buzzing hit your clit, making heat flood you. His fingers—no, just one finger, his pinky—traced your entrance in a tickling move that made you hungrier to have him inside you.

You bucked up impatiently with a soft whine, but that made the bullet grind harder against you. The oversensitive nerves screamed in protest and you slammed your hips back down on the bed. Your core gripped and pulsed and nothing was satisfying the ache building and building in your body.

“Pl-mm. MmmMMm!” Your body was wound so tight that you couldn’t release the bit in your mouth. Instead, your words tried to crawl out the sides of your lips. “MmmMMMMmmmM!”

He only smiled, mashing the bullet against you harder. You bucked, trying to find release or relief. The archer smiled at you as you writhed, “Put your legs over my shoulder, koneko.”

You raised your legs, folded them against your chest and growling as your legs grazed your throbbing nipples. He eased the pressure of the bullet and pulled both of your ankles over his shoulder. You whimpered as he dropped the bullet to the side, nodding and trying to push out your words, but he just gave you another small smile as he wrapped an arm around your shins. He pressed a small kiss to your ankle against his cheek and settled your legs against his shoulder and neck.

“Now,” he purred, his eyes hooded and mysterious. “I want you to scream for me.”

You looked at him in a daze until he barked, “One!” Then his hand spanked your ass. Your body ached and you pulled futilely against the archer’s grip as pain sparked through you. He dipped a finger into your core, waiting until you shivered and gripped it. Then he pulled out and paddled you again.

“Two.” Your legs jerked. “You did not think I had forgotten, did you pet?”

The stinging in your ass only made your core throb more. And when his fingers again dipped inside, twisting to make sure that he was scraping that sweet little spot raw, you pulsed as pleasure and pain drifted and mixed like watercolors. You shook your head with another wordless cry.

“Three!” His hand came down with a splat on your ass, making the skin sting and turn pink, and the wet slick made it feel even more powerful.

“Four!” The paddle struck between two other pink spots, making you writhe as he again pressed into you. You panted, bucking up at nothing desperately as he picked up the vibrator and pushed it on to your core. You lit up with pleasure as the buzzing shook your nerves.

“Five,” he said with satisfaction as his hand caressed you lightly, then slapped your burning cheeks again.

He dropped your legs and stepped back. Your eyes cracked to see him half naked, his back straight and his gaze hot on you with his hands on his hips. Pushing and twisting, you whimpered, bucking up your core and offering yourself to him. His smile was a dark and delicious promise as his hands arched for your ankles.

“You have been a heartless tease, pet,” he observed as he pulled your ankles apart. He pushed two fingers into your core and you whined as you tried to push him in deeper. “And I will have you begging for me.”

His fingers were not deep enough to offer you relief and you bucked again as you sought what you needed. Need...need...need—the word chanted in your brain as he his fingers teased you and spread your slick. His other hand palmed your breast hotly and you moaned as his fingers tweaked your tight nipples. Your bottom ached, the skin stinging as you tried to settle on the bed as you tried to buck harder up.

Your eyes closed tightly as his fingers temporarily abandoned your core and breasts to come to your mouth. He slid one along your lips and tugged the leather out of your mouth. You let out a throaty whine as the sopping leather drug away.

“Begging,” he whispered. “Begging for my favor, for my cock.”

“Please,” you whispered in a croak. “Please....”

“‘Please’, what?” He hummed slowly. “Pets should beg prettily to get what they want.”

He picked up both the bullet and the arrow. With one hand, he pressed the bullet against your clit again and smiled as you went wild bucking up against his hand. The arrow slapped lightly against your skin with little snaps. You groaned as you fought to keep the sharp vibrating where you needed it most and to avoid the sharp little snaps of the shaft.

“Please.... I want...want you.” You gasped as the arrow stung lightly across your breast. “Please.”

“Please...? Please give you what you want?” He bent and whispered the against the skin of your breast. “Please give you my cock and ride you into the mattress?”

You nodded quickly, sharply, as he whispered against your skin. “Please.” He suckled on one of the pale pink marks his arrow had left and there was fire in your body and trapped under each one of the marks. As his lips brushed each one, the fire left your skin and became coals in your blood. Finally you managed to speak in a hushed whisper again.

“Please...please. I am begging you.” You swallowed heavily. “I do want you—your cock.” You struggled in the scarf and bucked again. The bullet slipped away from your clit and it bounced slickly against your legs before getting buried in the mussed sheets. “Please...give me a...a chance....” He grinned softly. “I need you.”

He pulled back with a stern look and nodded. “You are a pretty pet when you beg.”

Slowly he threaded his fingers through the ties at his waist. His voice dropped to a shivery octave. “So, you want my cock?” You nodded with a jerk of your wrists. “Do you hunger for me, pet? Hunger for my cock and hunger for me to pleasure you?”

You nodded again, your mouth dry as his loose hakama slid down his hips. His cock thrust forward proudly and seemed to glisten as he stepped out of the last of his clothing. “I want...want all of that.”

He slid between your legs again, smirking wickedly. His fingers teased you again, stroking your clit and dipping into your core. When he finally drove his finger in to his rough knuckles, you felt a shot of pleasure so hot it was painful. The scream floated out of your mouth as his finger curled. You had barely let out that cry when he sucked your nipple into his mouth. His breath pulled the sensual tip hard and it felt like all of the fire flowed to that one spot. Another cry spilled out as he teased the tip with his teeth with a shocking spill between pleasure and pain.

You barely realized the breathless words locked in your brain were spilling out like marbles from a child’s hand. “Please...oh God, please. I need...need...need. I want...wanted your cock so bad. Need you to—!”

Hanzo cut off your words with a kiss that seemed to be dancing on the line between delicious and desperate. His tongue lapped at your lips and tapped your lips against your teeth. You sucked in a breath and instantly his lips and tongue were there and tasting of green tea. He teased you, lapped at your tongue and in a shocking moment, it seemed like you were breathing your very next breath seemed to come directly from his lungs and filled you with the essence of green tea.

You whined and bucked and he pulled back enough to grin down at you. His own body was on fire, had long since been enflamed. He couldn’t stop his hips from curling, rubbing the shaft of his cock along your slit. The desperation he had hidden, kept buried, was flowing out and blossoming in his blood.

He had never wanted something so much, never needed anything so much. Even the driving need to fire his bow seemed to be drowning into his need to tie you to him. Every step he had taken was to bring him here. The burning in his head and hands and cock made him tremble as he tried to be gentle, tried to be mindful of your pleasure. Every thread of thought, every fiber of muscle and every nerve cried out to be inside of you, driving into your core until you were as on fire and desperate as he was.

Your legs wrapped around him, grabbing his hips and pulling blindly on him. “I need you...Master.”

He grinned, his lips against your neck and one hot hand squeezing the whole of your breast. The other stroked your skin, tracing the sweat beading on your skin. He closed his eyes, bringing his mind into this moment and taking everything in—the sound of your sweaty skin sliding along his; the maddening, musky honey scent that seemed to cling to you; the tangy taste of your slick on his fingers and on your skin; the feel of your body writhing to find his cock so close and so far; the deep color of your passion darkened eyes. For a breathless moment, he stilled to burn everything in his mind.

Then he hissed as he slid inside. There was a slick sound and he felt you stretch around him. You arched your back with a whine to take everything he had to give. Thick liquid warmth surrounded his burning cock and your core gripped him with shuddering that made his eyes cross and his throat dry.

Your heels found a niche in his back, digging into his muscles in a way that made pleasure and pain feel like they were spinning out of control. He bottomed out, his cock buried as deeply as it possibly could and every muscle crushed into the haven between your legs.

His teeth clamped down on your shoulder and his hips pumped and then pounded into you. You screamed, arching beneath him and he was blindsided as you came. Your whole being convulsed around him, driving every thought from his head. He felt a spurt burst out of his cock, and he growled as his hips kept pumping.

You were breathless, your core throbbing as he kept sliding forward. You jerked backwards, going nowhere, as he kept grinding. Your clit throbbed, the skin oversensitive and almost painful as his rough thumb stroked it again. Even the bullet that pulsed under your leg, lost in the sheets beneath you, seemed more painfully stimulating than you could bear.

“Please...M-m-master!” Your voice was high and thready as he slowly thrust into your burning core. “Oh, God, I can’t.... I can’t again.”

“You can,” he rumbled deep in his chest. He lapped at your neck, making you arch your back again. “You can and you will.” He slammed into you again, hard enough to make you gasp. “You have not pleased me fully, pet. You will, though.”

Sparks kept coming as his words landed around you like bombs. “I...I can’t. I just can’t.” Still, your hips answered his will instead of yours. His demands overrode your will as he kept slipping back and forth into your core. Suddenly, your body took over and you wept as his thumb strummed your clit and his mouth latched hungrily on your stiff nipple. “Please....”

You felt the rumble of the archer’s purr against your skin. His eyes were hooded as they looked up at you. Slowly, he grinned and began lapping back and forth between your nipples. Hunger like burning starvation was consuming his every will, desperation warring with toppling discipline. How long had he wanted? How long had he needed this? What had he done—ever—that he could be here with you?

Every inch of skin seemed to be desperate and his hands gripped whatever they could reach. With a sibilant and sensuous wriggle, he rubbed every inch of skin he could against you. A hunger he hadn’t even known he had pulsed and was satisfied as you pressed harder against him.

Both hands held your head, gently guiding you to look into his desperate eyes. “I will have all of you, hime.” He pressed a kiss to your sweaty forehead, his eyes closing in reverence. “I will not hold back, can not hold back.” You shuddered. “Tell me now if you want to stop because there is nothing on heaven or earth that will stop me—.”

You took in a breath and nipped at his skin. He growled, grinning, as his head tilted back. Your tongue traced the rough hair on his throat and he let out a sigh. Teardrops were at the corners of his eyes as he let out a gasp. With a whine, he curled above you.

You were going to ask, to speak, but with a growl, he slammed into you. His pace was immediately unforgiving—slick and lightning fast. Just as quickly, you were drowning in shivering pleasure. Your core pulsed twice, thrice, and then you bucked, arching and thumping up and down.

Hanzo growled, dropping to grind stomach to stomach against you and then pumping his cock as deep as it could get. If he could have gotten deeper, he would have. He gripped your hips and pulled up as hard as he could. You gave him another cry and convulsed as though he had struck you. Before he could breathe in, you had set your feet on the bed and pushed harder.

You panted noisily, small cries erupting with soft pleas. He settled his weight and braced as you curled and cried out. Gentle and soft was gone—foreign to his mind—and instead he began pounding into you. The entire bed shook, rocking as he drove single-mindedly into you. You bit lightly on his tightly muscled shoulder and he growled, going faster and faster.

He felt you shudder again, smirking as you lost your rhythm and became overwhelmed. He could see stars as every motion made his belly clench. He abandoned every restraint and pleasure rushed around him as he fought to catch up with you. Faster and faster until his legs ached and his cock felt raw and consumed by fire. Your shrieking climax rocked him inside and out. Nothing else existed as you fell apart and he was consumed.

A roar echoed in the apartment, shaking the walls, and Hanzo barely recognized that it was his own as he fell over the edge.


	26. Chapter 26

You whimpered softly as he pulled away and staggered to the door. He returned a minute later with a cool, soft cloth and a glass of ice water. You whined a bit—even that smooth and soft cloth was too much on your raw core. He smiled arrogantly and let the glass rest lightly against your clit and core. Immediately you felt relief, the skin cooling and soothed at the touch of cool and smooth. You relaxed and sighed as he cleaned your slick and the hot seed.

Slowly, he untied you, tossing the scarf aside. He brushed a kiss on your fingers, on your knuckles, and massaged your wrists before setting them in front of you. He fumbled to take the bullet out from under the sheets and turn it off before setting it aside as well. Before you knew it, you were settled with a drink of water and tucked into his bed with a light t-shirt—the often worn, super smooth and comfortable kind—on.

He came swaggering back in with two cups of tea, comfortable in his own skin as he padded around. You curled around a plump pillow with a smile of your own. He smirked as you yawned sleepily.

“My sleepy kitten,” he murmured, handing you a steaming cup. “Just a little something warm to drink before sleep.”

You nodded, smiling as the scent reached up and comforted you. He sipped his tea as well, sitting beside you on the bed in a lazy sprawl. His eyes never left yours, never stopped simmering warmly.

He took the cup from you when it was empty and nudged you until you were laying down and curled into a comfortable sprawl. You looked at the curious poster with its anachronistic dragon and treasure. How odd, that the dragon was not faced outward and threateningly in some cliche pose, but inwards and towards the two baby dragons. The two smaller ones were grinning upward as they stared with widely sketched eyes. But it was the woman that drew your attention. There were chains and hooks aplenty in the darkened vault—some with lamps hanging down and some with nets or shadowy treasures, but she was hardly some stereotypical virgin sacrifice as she stood there with a plain path going up to the mouth of the cave. Instead, she ignored the obvious path towards freedom to try to work an arrow free from the scaly hide of the dragon.

When he returned, dimming the lights in the apartment along the way, he was in a pair of loose cotton pajama pants. He grinned at you and turned off the lights before sliding into bed behind you. He nuzzled the back of your neck as he curled around you and sliding his arms around you. You grinned in the darkness, feeling his smile and the rough, coarse hair on his chin as he dropped a small kiss to your skin.

“Are you pleasured, koneko?” he whispered softy.

“Mmmhmm,” you replied. His body was warm and strong behind you, soothing in its heavy bulk. A rogue thought came up and you asked, “Were...were you?”

Hanzo smiled again in the darkness. You were soft and sleepy, all of your muscles relaxed and warm and sagging against him. You were so wonderful against him, sprawling and loose-limbed and scented with sleep and tea and arousal. He still felt the urge to hold you, to rub all over you like an animal, but it was less of a need now that he could smell something of his own scent on your skin. He was sated, calmed, and felt almost at peace.

“You are my greatest pleasure,” he murmured. “Never doubt that.” He gave you a soft lick. “I will always cherish you.” He paused. “Will you be here in the morning?”

You nodded. “I would not want to be anywhere else....” You yawned and stretched, going back to the warm nest his body made for you. “Master.”

“I am pleased—honored,” he whispered. “You could have chosen anyone else, but you chose me. Waited for me.” He nuzzled you again. “Even when I had nothing to offer you, you waited for me.

“I have spent hours thinking that you would find me lacking. That you would prefer any other man—that you would prefer Genji—to one who does not often enough remember how to smile or to laugh. I have wondered, what could I offer you—you who are so filled with light and warmth and all the things that I am not. When you are surrounded with so many who could offer you so much more than I, why would you choose me?”

You grumbled a bit. “Be...because I wanted you. Not them.”

“I was...surprised. I had not even thought you noticed me until I heard you talking with my brother in the cafeteria.” Hanzo’s words started to soften in sleep. “For the first time in my life, I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Afraid that if I did not claim you that very instant, you would vanish like a dream.” His arms pulled you closer. “Afraid that if I did not please you, you would turn away and choose another. Afraid that if I had nothing to offer, you would fall into my brother’s arms. I have never been so afraid to lose.”

“You will never lose me,” you insisted. “I will not—.”

“I know,” he rumbled. “It was foolish of me to assume that you would.” He lapped your skin again. “I dishonored you in my foolishness, my arrogance and assumptions.” He shrugged and slid closer to you. “I will not be so foolish again.”

His hand crept down your skin with a delicate touch, tracing your skin until his palm cupped your stomach. “And yet, now that I have you, I find myself even more wary that even now I may yet lose you. That I may wake one day and you have flown away and are gone and take my heart with you.” His voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I am an old dragon, but even an old dragon may yet learn to laugh and to be a...a suitable mate for a beautiful kami—if she wishes.”

Your heart caught in your throat. You nodded blindly, tears forming in your eyes. Twisting bonelessly, you laid facing him. A drop of wetness was on his skin as your fingertips grazed his cheek.

“I will give you time, if you wish,” he whispered. “I have been so eager to claim you that I have not stopped fighting to get you here.” You kissed him gently. “I will always fight for you. No matter how far you think you can run and no matter where you go, I will always be here for you and praying for your return.”

“I know. I know.”

“You know?” He paused for a shaky breath and kissed your forehead again. “I suppose I could not hide my true intent from a kitsune.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Kitsune are fox kami. They are mischievous creatures that can get into anything and mostly they steal small items—chicks, combs or small trinkets. They are beautiful and magical, can cast illusions for good or for ill.” He smiled down at you. “Kitsune, also, find out any secrets that they like and can get in wherever they please—even going through locked doors and walls. Kitsune also can create illusions and make the impossible seem real.” He kissed you gently. “And without my own kitsune making me believe, I never would have been healed.”

The next morning, as you both came in for breakfast, Genji was there waiting with a knowing smirk. “I suppose that all is well that ends well, huh, anija?”

Hanzo nodded slightly as you and he put out the small dishes of fruit and oatmeal and cups of green tea. You still preferred honey in yours and he was careful to make sure to keep them separate. You flushed as he pulled out your chair and gave you a hot look that made you shiver.

Genji came to sit at your table. “So I suppose you won’t take pity on a poor lonely ninja? Go out and have a drink with him?”

You looked at him dryly, picking up your cup to sip the hot drink. At sunrise, Hanzo had been up and rolled you over. He woke you with sloppy hot kisses and his fingers dipping into your core until you were screaming his name. Yes, he made you beg—over and over—and then he pounded into you until you were clinging to him and your climax crushed you. Understandably, your throat was a bit scratchy.

“I did,” you whispered with a sight flush. Hanzo grinned wolfishly, but said nothing. “And, as you say, ‘all’s well that ends well’.”

Genji blinked a few times in surprise. “Well....”

Hanzo grunted sourly and you absently patted his arm. “I need to report to the commander. I am getting some new recruits and reforming my team.” He looked at you. “I will need you to be there to welcome them.”

“Of course,” you nodded, ignoring a baffled and amused Genji. You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I knew you could do it.”

Genji blinked owlishly again and stared at you so hard that he jumped when one of the pretty analysts came over and touched his shoulder. You and Hanzo chuckled softly and you asked, “Who is this, Genji?”

He smiled at the analyst and she blushed. “This...this is Rachel. She’s...she’s....”

“Ahh,” Hanzo muttered. “Is that who she is?”

“I’m Rachel,” the woman said with a soft drawl, sliding into a chair. “I was...well, I was on the team when...Genji first joined us.” She blushed. “But I hear through the grapevine that you have to march up and tell ninja that you like them, or else they’ll never figure it out.”

You nodded and grinned. The “old dragon” at your side leaned back comfortably with his arm around the back of your chair. “Well...it’s nice to meet you Rachel. We’ve got to get going.”

“Ahhh...the new team?” She turned a ruddy hue. “Well...I put my name into the ring, but I don’t know if I made it.” She looked up at Genji. “I hear that the new team will be training daily. I know I’m just a medic, but do you think I could do it?”

“I.... Ahh.... Well, that is.... I—,” Genji babbled.

You nodded. “If you are willing to work hard, you’ll do fine.” You looked up at Hanzo. “The best things are worth working for, waiting for—aren’t they?”


End file.
